No One To Catch Them
by I Feel Possessed
Summary: Post "Raven & The Swans" S04E22. Callen is forced to confront the real reasons as to why Hetty's story and actions left him so angry and the team have to manage the aftermath during their next case.
1. Prologue

S04E23 Extra scenes after the end of "Raven and the Swans" (so contains spoilers).

Callen goes for a drink with Grace in an attempt to find out more details about "Hetty''s Orphans", however the results are more revealing than he anticipated.

* Amended from a one shot to a chapter story *

This is my first foray into fanfiction, and my first attempt at writing anything creative since I was about 15! Please read, enjoy and review...thanks.

Prologue

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The take down at the hospital had gone without a hitch. Grace Stephens had kept her cool, waiting until Vandenberg approached her bed before sitting up and training her gun on him. Callen had her back, with the rest of the team arresting Visser and his cohort before they could even draw their weapons. After the near chaos of the earlier operation at the hotel, the only complaint to be heard that evening was Deeks in the hospital corridor, moaning that this was the last time he was ever going under cover as a janitor.

As Callen walked back into the Mission, he glanced towards Hetty's office and paused. The row they'd publically had earlier needed to be resolved. The air needed to be cleared if Callen and Hetty were to regain any iota of their previous working relationship. Trust. That was the one word that Hetty repeatedly threw at him. Hetty had once told Callen that the one wish she had for him was that by the time he left NCIS, he had learnt the art of trusting others, personally and professionally. Callen still had complete confidence in Hetty as an Operations Manager, however the personal trust that he did have in her was being slowly eroded. She had withheld valuable information about his past, his mother – OK he'd compartmentalised that and moved on – but finding orphans and training them to become spies...Callen sighed heavily and moved towards Hetty's office, knowing that he was going to have to move on from this somehow, or else move on from NCIS altogether.

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The conversation with Hetty had proved extremely enlightening for Callen, and both he and Hetty sat in silence for a while, enjoying the whisky and their recovered status quo. The enigma that was Henrietta Lange had chosen to reveal one of her many secrets, and Callen was somewhat satisfied with himself about this. However, he figured it best to end the evening on this level playing field. Yet again he had so many questions he wanted to ask about 'Hetty's Orphans'. However if he continued to drink such smooth whisky, the questions would fester in his mind and had the potential to cause yet another explosion of his temper. The consequences of this would be much more severe than a chat over whisky; it would more likely earn him suspension for insubordination. And it had been a while since he'd been that out of control of his own emotions.

So Callen made his excuses and left for the boatshed to catch up with the rest of his team. He'd only had one drink and he jumped behind the wheel of his car and within ten minutes was observing Grace and Sam interrogating Vandenberg. His earlier assessment was right; Vandenberg was exercising his right to remain silent and no amount of tactics, from threats to cajoling were currently working. It had been a long day for the team, and Sam and Grace were showing signs of fatigue and frustration. Callen decided that they all needed a break and he called them out of the interview room.

As Sam and Grace gathered round, Callen spoke. "Look, Vandenberg is not talking. I think we should keep him in the interview room under armed guard with bright lights and all the comms links up. Make him uncomfortable. Kensi and Deeks can go back in 3 hours. He might be ready to talk then."

He looked at Sam, waiting for the inevitable protests that would follow. Sam didn't disappoint.

"Aw, come on G" Sam complained. "I reckon another hour and he'll crack. Grace?" Sam gestured with his arms as he spoke and appealed to Grace to back him up.

Grace looked at Sam and Callen as she deliberated. "No, I think Callen is right. Vandenberg is a tricky character and we could use a different approach. We're all tired and could carry on but why should we? We can go eat, rest and refresh ourselves while he's sitting on a wooden chair at a table for hours and hours on end." She looked slyly at the two men, who had both adopted a defensive stance, having crossed their arms. "Vandenberg is used to comfort and getting his own way. He doesn't like being ignored, so this will get to him. If we left him until tomorrow morning and I'm the first person he sees, we'll probably break him easily."

Sam reluctantly nodded his head in agreement and glanced at Callen.

"That's agreed then" Callen declared. "Sam, go home to your family. Agent Kearney will be the armed guard immediately outside the door, with Agents Williamson and Greene as the relief. I'll let Kensi and Deeks know they don't have to come back here." Callen made a move to the interview room, as Sam quickly caught up with him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you good now G?" He asked earnestly, concern etched over his face.

"Yeah, you know me..." Callen replied nonchalantly, countering Sam's blatant concern with a vacant expression.

"Exactly, so are you good?" Sam asked again, rubbing a hand over his smooth face. "Look, I really thought you were losing it earlier; the indecision at the hotel was so unlike you. And I heard about your shouting match with Hetty. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on Sam. And I am good. Now go home and prepare for your kid's party. I'll see you tomorrow." Callen cast a steely blue gaze at Sam before he turned and walked off into the interview room. Without uttering a word to Vandenberg he cuffed his right leg to the table leg and left the room. It was just one more inconvenience for Vandenberg to experience, thought Callen, tomorrow's interrogation should be fun.

When Callen returned to the main area of the boatshed there was only Grace left. She looked a little weary now the day's work was officially over. Callen was secretly still smarting a little as to how close Grace had been when analysing his love life. As she had openly admitted, her longest relationships were with arms dealers and criminals. Callen's longest relationships too, had been when he was undercover, although his didn't always involve criminals...He hope that the conversation he was about to start would not be taken the wrong way.

"Grace" he started, "I'm heading off for a bite to eat. Wanna join me?"

Grace looked up at him, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "What do you have in mind?"

"Anything really. We can get a takeaway and sit by the beach, or eat in someplace? Where are you crashing tonight? Does Hetty have you sorted?" Callen's barrage of questions made Grace smile.

"I would rather go to a bar, preferably one that does burgers. And no, Hetty doesn't have me sorted." She glanced mischievously at Callen. "I could crash at yours?"

Callen returned the look, knowing he could play this game just as well. "You could do, if you're happy sleeping on the floor..."

Grace looked slightly put out. "Well, that's not very chivalrous of you. How about I have your bed and you sleep on the floor?"

"I do sleep on the floor, and I don't have a bed." Callen stared at her, straight-faced, gauging her reaction.

"Interesting" Grace's eyes lit up. "Come on, let's go grab a beer, and you can tell me all about you and Hetty, and what it is you have against beds!"

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Callen drove them to Venice Ale House; right on the Boardwalk and they grabbed a table outside.

"I'd forgotten how much I'd missed LA" Grace admitted as she gave a cursory glance across the neighbouring tables. Callen observed her actions as he too had surveyed the area, a habit he was sure would never leave him. "Mind you, I never had you pegged as a man who'd feel comfortable in Venice?" Grace asked a leading question.

"Yeah, well..." Callen looked out at the Boardwalk, at the myriad of people, faces and colours passing by. "It's easy to disappear here."

"I suppose so. Downtown LA was more my area..." They were interrupted by a waiter, and they ordered drinks and food. As evening fell, the usual Californian sunset ensued, with vibrant pinks and deep blue skies providing the backdrop for the bright yellow sun dropping on the horizon.

After their burgers and their fourth beer, they both appeared more relaxed in each other's company. The small talk between them had been easy banter and rather innocuous, with anecdotes from various escapades encountered. Callen studied Grace as she took another long sip from her beer. He knew he had to turn the conversation round to Hetty and to Grace's past, and it might prove tricky for him not to give up any of his own secrets. Much though he liked Grace; attractive, intelligent, she looked and sounded tough - he didn't trust her. He was pretty sure that key details from their evening would be fed back to Hetty. That is, provided she hadn't actually wired Grace and was listening to them right now. Yes, Callen thought, paranoia could be added to the trust issues he blatantly had.

"So" Grace broke his train of thought, "What was it you and Hetty were arguing about earlier?"

Callen stared at Grace, thinking that saved him opening the Hetty conversations, and instinctively replied, "I told you earlier, it had nothing to do with the case."

Grace returned his stare, wondering why he'd suddenly become defensive. "I didn't ask if was about the case." She said pointedly, "from the reactions of Kensi and Deeks, it was highly unusual. Hetty rarely raises her voice to anyone, let alone shouts. So, why were you arguing?"

"You believe in the direct approach then?" Callen broke away from Grace's stare, instead focussing on the nearly empty beach.

"No point dancing around. I've noticed you're exactly the same as me." Grace responded. In fact she thought that she had a lot in common with Callen. Her instincts told her that they were cut from the same cloth. She also had a feeling that Callen and Hetty shared a past too.

Callen snorted in derision as he turned back to face her. "And that is exactly what we were arguing about." Grace met his eyes which were now a steely shade of blue, just as hers were. This conversation seemed to now heading for a confrontation, and she couldn't quite work out why.

"What, that we both speak our minds and are blunt about it? No, Callen, you'll have to do better than that!"

"OK" Callen said, pausing to take a breath before continuing. "For at least 30 years, Hetty has been finding orphaned children, nurturing them and training them to be spies and Federal agents."

Grace smiled as he said this. "And this bothers you, why?" She asked.

"You knew?" Callen looked confused. Surely Grace couldn't be OK with having been 'harvested' by Hetty, and trained to kill.

"Yeah, of course, and I don't have a problem with it because she probably saved my life. Look, my entire family died in a car crash when I was thirteen. Apparently I was the lucky one as I escaped only with a broken leg and collar bone. I had no one else so I was placed in an orphanage, before being placed in a foster home. I developed a _talent_ for stealing and fraud – credit cards mainly. Anyways, I was arrested several times and eventually got sent to juvie. 'Bout two months later I had a visit from Hetty who offered me a way out..." Grace stopped and ran her fingers through her hair and looked at Callen, who still looked puzzled.

Callen struggled to comprehend how Hetty recruited her orphans and misfits, housed them and tutored them in the art of spy-craft without anyone suspecting. But then of course there was no-one to miss them. He was pretty certain the Government approval for this 'project' and its funding had come from the CIA. Callen thought back to the time he had spent with them; two stints with the Agency, one when he was in his early twenties, and again before he joined NCIS. He knew how unorthodox and ruthless both the CIA – and himself – really could be. He could easily understand how unwanted children were already pre-conditioned to suit Hetty's and the CIA's purposes. Self preservation had taught Callen at an early age to protect himself, not to trust anyone and he could only ever remember being naturally suspicious of others motives. Callen recalled the memory of his mother being killed in front of him on the Romanian beach. An action which had been at least partly facilitated by the CIA themselves, as they had given the command to Hetty to abort the mission to rescue their agent and her two young children. Collectively, they were responsible for his mother's execution, his forced separation from his sister, and his lonely and desperate upbringing. Therefore by association, they had conditioned him into becoming the agent and man he was today.

"How many years ago was this?" he asked, shaking his head slowly, hiding the anger he could feel building inside him.

"Hhhmm, 'bout twenty four, twenty five." She said.

Callen did the maths. Grace's file said she was forty, and everything she'd said so far matched the records Eric had obtained. However if all this was true, then Grace would most likely have known Lauren Hunter, and maybe Sullivan. After Hunter's murder, Hetty had admitted she had known Hunter for nearly thirty years and she'd also been found in an orphanage. "So you knew Lauren Hunter?" he finally said.

"Yes I did. Lauren had been with Hetty for years before I got there." Grace said, a smile spreading over her face as she recalled the memories. "We fought like wild-cats. Lauren was so jealous that Hetty had found me and was paying me more attention than her. Not that I ever used that to my advantage, of course." Grace glanced slyly at Callen, who smiled just as he was supposed to.

From what he had known of Hunter, he could imagine the trouble that would have sparked between the two girls. This still wasn't really answering his many questions he thought, and he ploughed on. "So how many other children were there?"

"Well I was only with Hetty for four years" Grace pondered. "So I don't know how many she's _saved_, but I would guess maybe twenty." She watched as Callen raised one eyebrow. "There were some younger girls, early and pre-teens, and another one about the same age as me and Lauren."

"But she never had any boys" Callen interrupted, wondering if that was why...

Before he could continue with his train of thought, Grace added "Yes she did. There was a boy John, John Sullivan who left just as I arrived, and another couple of younger boys. It's still a wonder that she managed to..." Grace struggled for the right word, "...control all of us."

"And you were all orphans?" Callen said, his temper starting to surface as the latest batch of information about Hetty mixed together with his already conspiratorial thoughts on the CIA. Grace nodded as Callen continued. "So Hetty took unwanted kids from orphanages. In her own words, the type of children that could slip through the cracks if no one was there to catch them." The sarcasm was apparent as Callen's voice rose in anger. "These are kids that have never known hope, love, and safety, that are used to surviving on their own wits, never trusting anyone but themselves. Kids most likely already used and abused, and Hetty uses them for her own ends."

"No, Hetty offered us care, love and a home. She gave us stability and structure. She showed us how we could take everything we had learned in life and use it to better ourselves and the world around us." Grace witnessed the mixture of emotions that crossed Callen's face. She had put his earlier confusion down to him not understanding Hetty as well as she did. But as she had talked and then listened to his latest outburst, she had seen Callen's confusion turn briefly to pain before settling on anger. She figured he must have some vested interest in this subject, and decided to gamble and go for the jugular.

"You're one too!" Grace declared softly. "But you're pissed that Hetty didn't rescue you, and that you never had a proper home with her."

Her statement had hit home as intended. Callen rubbed his hands over his head before looking up a Grace. He thrust a hand in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, peeling off a few as he stood up. He threw the money on the table, shook his head and walked off.

"Wait!" Grace shouted as she chased after him. "Wait up." She caught up and placed a firm hand on his right arm.

"Why?" Callen stopped and spun around to face her. "You think you've got me sussed. You know nothing. Leave me alone." He angrily shook her arm away and made to move off again.

Grace moved in front of him. "Then tell me. What bit did I get wrong, coz I think I'm bloody close to the mark." Grace's eyes blazed as she met Callen's anger with her own.

"You really want to know?" Callen asked, his voice rising in line with his emotions. "Well, Hetty was instrumental in me becoming an orphan in the first place. And she knew where I was from an early age, yet I only met her ten years ago, when she first tried to recruit me to NCIS." He sighed deeply, finally having verbalised the thoughts which had been casting a shadow across his mind. Grace stood still in front of him, unsure whether he had more to reveal. Callen continued, "I was in thirty seven foster homes Grace. Every one of them Hetty was responsible for getting me in, as apparently she was determined to find me a family." The sarcasm again was evident. "When Hetty told me this – which was only two years ago – she said I was a 'challenging child', so does that mean that it's my fault that I couldn't find a new family? Thirty seven homes, between the ages of five and eighteen, and my longest stay was three months. What does that say about me? Or maybe I should ask what the hell that says about Hetty?" Callen stopped abruptly, not sure he should really continue with his rant. Scared as to what deep and dark thoughts he might inadvertently reveal.

Grace looked at Callen. He looked tired and bitterly angry, a far cry from the tightly controlled man from earlier. There was so much more than just the jealousy issues she first thought he had, and she wondered how long this resentment had been festering inside him. Grace again placed her hand on Callen's arm, gently this time.

"Callen," she said calmly. "When you said what does that say about Hetty, what do you actually mean?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter." Callen said sullenly, trying unsuccessfully this time, to pull away from Grace.

"Well clearly it does." Grace linked her arm tightly with his and slowly dragged him through across the boardwalk and through the car park to the sandy beach. They strolled quietly for a few minutes, before stopping. "Sit," Grace ordered.

Callen stared at her and shook his head as he dropped to his knees on the beach. He remembered the last time he was on a sandy beach and about to recall his past. He doubted there would be any disturbing flashbacks this time. Venice was Venice, and nothing he saw here had ever disturbed him. But maybe that was disturbing in itself?

"So, explain yourself." Grace sat down beside him.

Callen still hesitated. To give voice to some of his deepest thoughts, and possibly some of his darkest secrets was alien to him. He had blanked so much from his mind without even realising, and plenty of his other experiences he had consciously locked away in the darkest recesses of his memory. Since childhood, he had bluffed his way though psychiatric evaluations; social workers had either been met with a wall of silence, or an elaborate concoction of lies only he himself could untangle. During his stints at various Federal agencies, he had played the game and given the 'right' answers which would enable him to continue with his job. Not one psychiatrist had been able to deny him the right to work, as no-one had ever penetrated his natural defences; the walls he had constructed so diligently as a child. And here was Grace, who from her file, had experienced a lot more than she had told him, and she was about to poke away at a small chink in his armour. Callen took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

"Hetty said she was responsible for finding me all my foster homes." Callen stopped and looked to the horizon. "About half of them were abusive, and I know for a fact some of it had been going on for years before I got there." Callen this time chose his words carefully, sounding out each one for emphasis. "Hetty deliberately placed me in homes where I would be lonely, beaten, verbally abused, bullied and...and what I saw and experienced..." He stood up and looked down at Grace before continuing. "Hetty rescued you, Hunter, Sullivan, those other kids. But she left me." Callen's anger had now subsided and been replaced with bitterness.

"But surely you can see that when Hetty realised what was happening, she removed you from danger and placed you elsewhere." Grace attempted to reassure Callen, knowing this rationale must already have played out in his mind. "And what about the rest of your time as a kid?" She asked.

Callen stared at Grace as blankly. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean the number of homes you were in, the length of time in the system and the longest stay was three months? I'm not stupid and I'm good at maths." Grace was sure she was taking a chance, and hoped she wasn't backing Callen into a corner.

"You know..." Callen shrugged and walked a few paces towards the sea.

"Yeah, I know," Grace said softly, joining Callen in gazing at the nearly set sun. "I know what _I_ did, what happened to me. What's your story?"

"No one knows this – oh, I'm sure Hetty must – but no one else." Callen appealed to Grace with an earnest look and piercing blue eyes. Grace nodded slowly, realising the significance of this moment to Callen.

"It's OK, I won't tell a soul" Grace reassured him and held his gaze.

"I, er, I ran away from some of the homes, lived rough and I, er," Callen found the next bit the hardest to admit. After all he'd taken a vow many years ago to uphold the law and as he struggled to admit to his past activities, the words almost stuck in his throat. "Got into a bit of trouble."

"There, that wasn't so bad was it?" Grace smiled at Callen, who just stared back having not really revealed anything. "We all have our demons, and I'm not going to cross examine you."

Callen really couldn't believe why he was allowing Grace inside his head. "But it still doesn't explain why Hetty wouldn't remove me from those homes like she did with you and the others." This was it, the crux of the matter. Callen's feelings of not being wanted or belonging rarely surfaced nowadays, but Hetty's revelation had meant she had chosen not to save him, chosen to abandon him.

"Maybe she was trying to protect you in some way." Grace chewed her bottom lip as she recalled the beginning of Callen's outpouring. "Why do you think Hetty was responsible for you becoming an orphan?"

Damn, thought Callen, did I really say that? This was why he kept his private thoughts and emotions permanently in check.

"Hetty and my mother were CIA and she was supposed to meet my mom at a beach, and provide safe passage to America for her, me and my sister. The CIA called off the mission at the last minute and my mom was executed in front of me." There, he'd said it. And it didn't make him feel any better. At least he knew now the shrinks were wrong. Talking didn't help at all.

"But that doesn't mean that that Hetty made you an orphan!" Grace stared at Callen in amazement. With this latest revelation she wasn't surprised that Callen had all these twisted thoughts galloping through his mind. Earlier observations throughout the day had shown Callen to be pretty much the same as her; bit of a loner, strong and independent, and crap at relationships. "It was the CIA that ordered Hetty to abort, not Hetty herself. And you said she kept an eye on you, presumably from a distance. Maybe your mom's killer would have targeted you and your sister if they found you? And if Hetty couldn't have a 'hands-on' approach with you, she at least moved you to new foster homes as soon as she realised there was trouble. And finally, if you only met Hetty ten years ago, that tells me that you managed to find your own way in this world, the right way."

"Wow, that's quite a speech Grace. Think you need to spend some time with Nate and maybe Sam. You could then all analyse me to your heart's content...without me being around."

"Is sarcasm your answer to everything?" Grace asked in despair, beginning to wonder if Callen would ever stopped wallowing in self pity that evening.

"Nope, just most things." Callen replied and tried to vaguely lighten the situation. "It's just..." Callen couldn't continue. He could understand the rationale Grace was placing on Hetty's actions concerning him. But only Callen knew what he'd been through as a child. Or maybe Hetty did too, as she had known he had witnessed his mother's murder and that he had a sister. He had never even had those memories until a few years ago. The dark side of his mind was still wrestling over whether Hetty had known what he had endured in the homes and as a teenager, and had deliberately left him there. She must have known, he thought, maybe that was how Hetty trained a few of her select orphans. Allowing them to be broken, and then observing how they built themselves back up, if they could. Despite everything Grace had tried to rationalise, Callen found that the bottom line was he no longer trusted Hetty.

As he realised this, he walked off without looking back at Grace, saying "I gotta go."

Grace stood there and watched him go. Complicated was something she did very well, so she looked up at the heavens, sighed heavily and followed him.

"Hey," she called out. Callen ignored her and kept walking.

Bloody hell you are making this difficult, she thought. Hetty must have been euphemistic when she told Callen he was a 'challenging child'. 'Pig-headed' and 'brat' were two words which were floating round her mind at that precise moment. Yet again, she jogged after him.

"Callen I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to upset you" she apologised.

"It's fine, forget about it" Callen replied as he continued walking without looking at her.

Grace remained silent and kept pace with him, as Callen marched toward the Boardwalk. They remained silent for a further five minutes until they reached Callen's car. He pulled out the key fob and unlocked the doors.

"Well?" He asked Grace pointedly.

"Well what," Grace responded innocently.

"Well get in." Callen really didn't know where this was going, and didn't particularly care. "I can drop you somewhere..."

"You can drop me somewhere," repeated Grace. "The mood you're in you'll probably drop me off a short pier!"

"Maybe, the sharks are probably getting a bit hungry by now." Callen took a long slow look at Grace, and gave a half smile.

"Is that meant to be an apology?" Grace guessed. "Coz it sounds more like a plan for murder!"

"It is what it is" Callen replied cryptically.

"Now about crashing at yours...You got a spare sleeping bag? It's been all of eleven months since I last had to sleep on a floor." Grace stared at Callen across the top of the car.

Callen replied. "You can have my sleeping bag and bed roll; I'll sleep in the easy chair." And with a smirk he opened the car door and got in.

Grace shook her head in despair and climbed in the passenger seat as Callen started the engine. There was definitely no hope for him, she thought, but whatever she'd screwed up with him earlier was already undone, although not forgotten. Neither of them had survived this long without being able to quickly adapt to situations. Her only fear now was for the future relationship of Callen and Hetty. It would only be a matter of time before they came to blows again.


	2. Morning Blues

Chapter 1 – Morning Blues

Grace woke up to early morning sunlight streaming through the curtain-less windows. She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to focus before flinging her left arm out wide. She groaned as it made contact with something that felt remarkably like a boot near her head. She turned to the left, focussed and remembered exactly where she was. In G. Callen's bedroom, in his sleeping bag, on the floor. Alone. And as she looked down at herself, she realised she was wearing a t-shirt that must belong to Callen. Grace sat up and run her fingers through her hair. Memories of the previous evening returned. A meal, alcohol, light conversation, heavy conversation – which was really a euphemism for a row – and then yet more alcohol. So did they kiss and make up? Grace shook her head delicately and smiled. She could barely remember the last time a man had resisted her charms. She had gotten so used to men expecting to have their 'wicked way' with her, that she took it personally when nothing happened. That's not to say that Callen hadn't tried – in a fashion – but it was more like flirting, and that was as far as it went. Grace sighed and pushed herself out of the sleeping bag, stood up and walked out to the kitchen.

Quietly she opened the cupboard doors, wondering where Callen kept his coffee and mugs.

"You won't find anything," came a voice from just behind her, making Grace jump guiltily.

"God, you gave me a scare!" Grace said as she turned to face Callen, with her hands raised to her chest.

"Guilty conscience?" Callen questioned with a smile. He was dressed casually in joggers and t-shirt, and Grace couldn't tell how long he'd been up.

"No." Was the abrupt answer as Grace turned back to the cupboards. "Coffee?"

"Please," came the equally abrupt reply from Callen.

"Where?" Grace waved her arms in the general direction of the kitchen units in exaggerated exasperation.

"Coffee shop 'bout 3 miles down." Callen stood in front of her with his arms folded across his chest. His face was a picture of amusement as he rang rings around Grace, who was still trying to clear the fog of sleep and alcohol from her mind.

"What?" The conversation was certainly not flowing as freely as it had the previous night, and Grace was now starting to seriously get annoyed. She was not a fan of mornings, or being played.

"Look" Callen opened the fridge door. "Beer and left over takeaway. Somehow I don't think Hetty would take kindly to us rolling in half cut."

"OK, so coffee?" Grace looked at Callen as she recalled more from the previous evening. Yes, Callen, who slept on the floor, had no furniture and obviously no stocked cupboards. He was more intriguing than your typical bachelor, and doubly frustrating. Probably why he was a bachelor in the first place, thought Grace as she tried to eradicate her bad mood, that and everything else he revealed – or didn't – last night.

Callen gave a little laugh as he looked at Grace and read her confused state of mind. There was a crease mark across her cheek from the pillow and Callen continued to smile as he asked her, "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, like a log" was the reply. "How did you sleep in the erm, chair?" Grace bit her bottom lip as she looked deeply into Callen's blue eyes and decided to change tact.

"OK. I don't sleep much so wherever, doesn't bother me." Callen returned her gaze, and then took the opportunity to glance down at how his t-shirt seemed to fit her perfectly, falling just below the tops of her thighs.

Grace caught the glance, and keeping her eyes focussed on Callen, asked again in a softer voice "So what about the coffee?"

"We'll pick some up on the way to the Ops centre." Callen pointedly held her gaze, refusing to be drawn into looking down her body again.

"And until then?" questioned Grace, cocking her head to one side.

"Shower?" Callen asked suggestively.

"Sounds good." Grace took a tentative step towards Callen.

"Towels are in the bathroom along the hall there."

Grace took another step closer and leaned in to his face. Lowering her voice, she seductively murmured, "How about we try to save the planet, save water and shower together?"

Callen placed his hands on Grace's hips and slowly pulled her towards his body. He placed his mouth next to her ear and whispered, "Sorry, already showered – the bathroom is all yours!" As he delivered his punch line, he moved away from her and walked off into his living room.

Grace rolled her eyes in frustration. She'd invited him to play the game and been played herself. Damn, she thought, mad for having shown her hand way too early, and walked down the hall to the bathroom.

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Just over an hour later, Callen and Grace strolled in to the Office of Special Projects together. Callen made an automatic move to grab his second coffee of the day, as Grace spotted Hetty and wandered over to her office. Callen walked to his desk and sat down, feeling Sam stare intently at him.

"What?" Callen looked up and stared back at Sam.

"A little birdie tells me that you and Grace went out last night," Sam paused to gauge Callen's reaction. As expected, there was none. Sam continued, determined to shake some gossip out of his partner. "And this morning, here the two of you are, casually strolling in together..."

"And?" Callen leant back in his chair, interested to see how Sam would play this out.

"Late, I might add." Sam stared at Callen. He'd been partnered up with Callen for over five years now, and he was convinced that Grace was the closest Callen had come to having a romantic interest during that time. And even now, he was equally convinced that by close, he meant they had merely been in the same house over night. "So, you have dinner together, go home together and you arrive together. Sounds like a hot date, if this means you spent the night together?"

"Woah," Both Callen and Sam looked up as Deeks made his presence know to them. "Did I just hear right? Callen, you had a hot date last night? And that hot date was actually with a girl? Not that you wouldn't have a hot date, or not be dating girls...but with who?" Deeks quickly tried to make his brain catch up with his mouth as he followed Sam's line of sight to Grace. "Oh no man, Grace? She's way too hot for you!"

"Hey guys" Kensi breezed in to the bull pen. She stopped by her desk and looked at all three men, who in turn were all looking towards Grace, then back to Callen. "Uh ha, so what's happened?"

"Kensi," Deeks said flamboyantly, "Here we have the classic example of why our Team Leader is a master in his field."

"Deeks..." Callen threw a warning in the younger man's direction.

Deeks ignored Callen and continued, "This is a man who last night went undercover as a real human lothario and lost himself in the moment during a sizzling hot date with Grace!"

Not to be outdone by Deeks, Sam added. "It's about time our boy got a bit of action!"

Callen picked up his newspaper in an attempt to bury his head in the sand, whilst Kensi exchanged glances with Sam and Deeks. Kensi sat down at her desk next to Callen and rolled her chair towards him. She placed her elbows on the desk and cupped her chin in her hands. She focussed her big brown eyes on Callen and said in a low, seductive voice, "Do tell..."

Callen had had enough. Was honesty really the best policy he thought? In this instance it was definitely worth a shot. "Ok, we had a meal, she had nowhere to stay so she crashed at mine, which is why we came in together just now."

"Mmmmmm" Kensi remained in her pose, her only purpose to wind Callen up.

"Nothing happened." Callen's defensive stance was only inflaming the rest of his team.

"That's not how I remember it," Grace had ventured over after her talk with Hetty. "Our evening was a lot more...involved," Grace paused for dramatic effect, "as was this morning."

Callen was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. Sam was just on a mission to wind him up, whereas Deeks believed every bit of smutty gossip going. And Kensi could be as bad as both of them.

"So what did Hetty have to say to you?" Callen made a valiant attempt to change the subject.

"Ah, just a quick de-breifing." Grace paused to give Deeks, Kensi and Sam a chance to snigger at the deliberate double entendre; Callen just leaned back in his chair, with a vaguely amused expression on his face. "And to give me my next assignment. I'm about to ship out to Camp Lejeune in North Carolina, leaving in about an hour's time."

"Wow, that's a pretty quick turnaround." Sam said. "What's the mission?"

"Classified, as usual" Grace smiled. She was going to miss this team, even though she'd only known them for little more than a day. "Callen, can I have a word?"

Callen remained seated at his desk, determined not to give the others any more ammunition. "What about Vandenberg? He's been in the boatshed all night. He's probably ready to explode about now."

"Hetty will be briefing you further on that case, it's no longer mine." Grace could see the look of disappointment and curiosity on the faces of the agents in front of her. "Callen, a word?" Her insistence meant Callen reluctantly moved to his feet and followed Grace to the hallway just outside the bull pen.

The two of them stood face to face.

"I just wanted to thank you for everything last night." Callen thought Grace spoke with a voice that was just a touch louder than it needed to be, and he felt three pairs of eyes boring into his back. She moved closer to him and gently kissed his cheek, whispering; "Game to me."

Callen shook his head and leaned back a touch. "You were in such a mess that I couldn't leave you like that, and I certainly wouldn't want to have taken advantage you – you weren't a pretty state – and you're one of us." He smiled at Grace and whispered. "Touché, but my team know me, I win."

It had been fun, and he was sad to see her go. He had connected with her in a certain way, which was unusual in itself. Maybe in another time, another place..?

Grace laughed as she swung away from Callen. "In your dreams, honey...'til next time" and she waved as she strode down the hallway and out of the door.

"What?" Callen asked as he moved back to his desk. He had the feeling this was going to be an extremely long day during which he would remain the centre of attention and the butt of their jokes.

Before any of his team could open their mouths, a loud monotonous sound emanated from the balcony. Eric stood posing with a plastic horn, successfully having gained the team's attention.

"What?" Callen's question was now directed to Eric and his patience was beginning to wear thin.

"This, my friends," began Eric, "is a vuvuzela. Originating from Africa, it was originally used to summon tribes to gatherings..."

"Very apt" was Callen's response, as he thought Eric's interruption displayed impeccable timing.

"Hetty wants you all in Ops now, as the tribe needs to prepare for a new battle." Eric waited until the team walked towards the stairs before heading back to the comfort of the computer hub.

Sam quickly walked caught up with Callen and the two of them walked up stairs side by side.

"So?" Sam asked.

"So what?" Callen replied, getting a strong feeling of déjà vu. Hadn't they covered all this about ten minutes ago, he thought.

"I'm really pleased for you and Grace. So tell me, what happened?" Sam was nothing if persistent, and spoke with a knowing grin on his face.

Callen hoped Deeks would soon say or do something that would be worthy of more ridicule and interest that his own non-love life.

"Sam." Callen stopped abruptly on the stairs and faced Sam. "We ate, we talked, she crashed at mine. I gave her a lift in this morning. You know me, nothing happened."

"Yeah, I know you." Sam shook his head in disappointment. "You're just not normal G."

Callen raised an eyebrow at Sam and the two of them continued up the stairs, whilst Deeks and Kensi who were right behind them, looked at each other and smiled. It certainly took some going to get one over on Callen, and Grace had managed just that. And she'd managed to get the rest of the team on-side at the same time. Such a shame she couldn't have stayed to assist them on whatever their next case would be.


	3. Mission Brief

Mission Brief

"Ah, gentleman" Hetty exclaimed as the team eventually materialised in the technical hub of the centre. "And of course Miss Blye. So glad you could join us this morning. Mr Beale, if you will please?"

Eric swivelled round in his chair and stood up in front of the large screen, taking centre stage.

"Two marines went AWOL three days ago from the Marine Corps training centre at Camp Pendleton. This morning, Private Tommy Edwards was found murdered on a dirt road just outside the border town of Tijuana in Mexico."

The picture of a Marine in his mid to late twenties was displayed in front of the team. He looked no different from the thousands of other Marines enlisted; buzz cut, serious, uniformed. Beside the formal photograph was an image of the crime scene. The same man was lying face down on a road side in a pool of blood. A bullet hole to the back of the head appeared to be the kill shot.

"What do we know about him?" Callen asked Eric.

"All in good time, Mr Callen." Hetty reined him in. "Mr Beale, if you would please continue?"

"Ah, well the other Marine, Private Cody Miller is still missing and presumed to be a deserter." Eric said, as the picture of Miller also appeared on the large screen.

Eric adjusted his glasses, as Nell picked up the baton and continued with the personal details of both Marines.

"Privates Edward and Miller both grew up in the City Heights area of San Diego. Their childhoods follow a similar pattern; absent mothers, substance abusing and violent fathers, time spent in care. Miller spent time on the streets before being arrested for a drunken attack on a stranger. Edwards became involved in a local drug dealing gang. We believe their lives first crossed at a juvenile detention centre when they were both 17."

Eric walked over to the large screen and touched a file. Selecting several documents, he flicked these open and enlarged them to show both the Marine's files side by side. Nell continued to summarise as the team read the details now in front of them.

"They were released after serving a few months, and within weeks of each other. Unfortunately through Edwards, they both became involved with San Diego's notorious Eastside gang."

"The Eastside gang?" questioned Deeks. "They were big in drugs...weren't they?"

"Correct," Eric replied. "And there were also suspicions that they had links to the Tijuana Drug cartel down in Mexico, through the then gang leader Vincent Martinez."

"So how did they make the change from gangs and crime to being Marines?" asked Kensi, as nothing in front of them revealed a turning point in the lives of Edwards and Miller.

"A dawn drug raid on the property of Martinez went horribly wrong. " Nell said. "Martinez and four of his men decided to go out fighting, which led to a blood bath. Five police officers were killed, with one left brain damaged. All five gang members were killed in the cross-fire. To avoid a potential escalation of gang warfare, the San Diego PD arranged a weapons amnesty, and the local military recruitment office promoted the marines as an alternative way of life to street gangs. Although Edwards and Miller were not at the scene, they were the newer gang members and must have realised this was their opportunity to change for the good."

Callen studied the pictures and files in front of him. Everything had a familiar pattern to it; kids from poor families, childhood abuse and neglect, falling into a life of crime. However these two had had enough common sense to see a way out and seized the opportunity. Looks like something else had gone wrong for them in recent months, and Callen wondered what that was. Before he could ask for further details, Eric continued.

"Their time spent as Marines has been pretty much exemplary," Eric picked up Nell's thread seamlessly. "The odd scuffle here and there, but no disciplinaries, and they completed several tours of Afghanistan and the middle east - all without incident. That is until recently." Eric paused for dramatic effect and surveyed his audience. "Two months ago, the base reported a higher than normal number of Marines were testing positive for cocaine, Miller and Edwards among them. Three weeks prior to that, ten cases of small arms weapons disappeared, which coincided with both Miller and Edwards working in the armoury. Both men have crossed over the Mexican border a number of times in recent months. However the MPs could find no evidence tying them to either drug possession, dealing, or the missing weapons."

"Sounds like more than just co-incidence" Callen said. "I've heard the Tijuana Cartel is starting to re-establish itself. Miller and Edwards have the background for this and possibly some old connections to the Cartel, but what other connections are there? There is probably someone higher up at the Base involved too"

"That, Mr Callen" Hetty interrupted, "Is what and why you and your team will be investigating."

"But we already have an active case with Vandenberg." Callen reminded Hetty, breaking his passing interest in the new case that had been presented to him. "He's been locked up in the boatshed, and is our only link to the missing nukes."

"Assistant Director Granger handed Vandenberg over to the CIA task force last night." Hetty's formal response to the team was the one she had not been looking forward to giving. She braced herself for the barrage of questions and anger that would now emit from her agents.

"What do you mean, 'Granger handed him to the CIA'?" Callen's eye blazed as yet again Granger seemed to be working to his own agenda and was again undermining his team's work.

"Exactly as I said, Mr Callen," Came Hetty's measured response. "The CIA have jurisdiction, and orders and protocol were followed."

"How could you let this happen?" Sam asked angrily, appealing to Hetty to produce a more reasoned explanation. "Vandenberg was the key to finding Siderov, and if Siderov is back in town then Michelle's life could be in danger."

"Contrary to popular belief, the CIA do actually know what they are doing, Mr Hanna."

At this the team looked at each other with raised eyebrows, half smiles and shakes of the head. They all knew how the CIA handled affairs and this filled none of them with any measure of confidence. Callen especially, knew the fallibilities of the CIA, which was one of the contributing factors to him leaving the agency a number of years ago.

"That's bull Hetty and you know it." Sam's earlier good mood was now fully eradicated in the light of this news, and the former Navy SEAL stood tall in front of Hetty.

"What I do know, is that Vandenberg is now with the CIA." Hetty was not intimidated by the stature of the man in front of her. She may be diminutive but she had rarely allowed herself to be intimidated by anyone. "And as and when the CIA obtains information pertinent to Siderov and our investigations, we will be informed. Until then, we are on a need to know basis. Currently, there is nothing we need to know."

Sam ran a hand over his head; this was not the way he had anticipated the morning going. He had planned on interrogating Vandenberg, catching up on paperwork and then enjoying the rest of the afternoon at his daughter's birthday party. There was no point arguing with Hetty. Firstly, he would never win, and secondly Hetty _did_ always look after her team and their interests. Still it gave him no comfort whatsoever.

"So," Callen sighed as his gaze changed from Sam to Hetty. "Why are _we_ investigating a murder in Mexico and a missing Marine?"

"Why, Mr Callen? The reasons are numerous and am I surprised I even need to explain myself to you." Hetty threw the question back to him, causing Callen to fold his arms across his chest defensively. "Surely a dead marine is reason enough? And how about we stop a re-emerging drug cartel cementing an arms trafficking arrangement with corrupt members of the military? Surely you would prefer to stop this now, rather than tackling the problem in five years time?"

Callen attempted to look suitably chastised, and as he opened his mouth to speak again, Nell jumped in. "The plan is for you" she said looking at Sam, "to go undercover as a MP to find Miller, with Kensi & Deeks also investigating in Mexico."

"Why do we need to go undercover to find Miller?" Callen interjected, still not convinced this case was worthy of the talents his team possessed, and sure he'd just been overlooked for an undercover operation. He was also pissed that Vandenberg had just been freely handed to the CIA.

"_You_ do not need to go undercover to find Private Miller; Mr Hanna will." Hetty answered for Nell.

"But why does he have to go undercover to find Miller?" Callen challenged the decision again with a slightly raised voice, convinced Hetty was deliberately withholding key elements of this operation.

"Because Mr Callen," Hetty kept her voice firm and steady, despite the fact that Callen was starting to grate on her nerves. "I'm throwing _you_ in the brig." She looked at Callen, having deliberately thrown him a bone and waited for him to bite again. Apparently their little chat the previous evening had not cleared the air between them as much as she had hoped.

"So I get to be the disgraced marine. Sam the MP catches him Miller, and I befriend him when he joins me in the Brig." Callen read between the lines, realising that yet again he would be spending time behind bars. And a military jail would be much worse than his most recent night in the cells at LAPD, for the staged shooting of Marcel Janvier.

"And Mr Deeks will be providing legal counsel to Miller, and yourself…if required." Hetty continued, wondering whether Callen would be too convincing a prisoner, attracting more trouble than strictly necessary.

Nell spoke to the team, "Sam and Callen will work different angles to try and find the brains behind this operation from the inside. Edwards and Miller were just the grunts; there's someone bigger involved in this."

Hetty spoke to the team as she walked towards the door. "I trust Miss Jones and Mr Beale will fill you in on the finer details of this case. Your undercover wardrobe will be ready when you are."

"So," Callen took charge of the deteriorating briefing as Hetty left, wondering how many of the operational decisions that had been made without his consent, he could get away with changing. "What do we have on the Tijuan Cartel?"

"Well," pondered Eric, "the emerging leader is Carlos Martinez." He stopped as he moved to the big screen, touched another file, opened and enlarged it. The image of a young, smartly dressed Mexican appeared in front of them.

"He doesn't look like your typical drug cartel leader? " Deeks commented.

Kensi looked Deeks up and down and retorted, "And you don't look like your typical cop – or lawyer for that matter."

Deeks smiled at Kensi, "There's always more to me than meets the eye, y'know." He said with a wink.

Sam and Callen just looked at each other, as Kensi rolled her eyes. Callen was relieved the banter was again moving back in Deeks' direction, and the interruption had lightened the air in the room a touch.

"Carlos is the younger half brother of the former gang leader Vincent Martinez. Since Vincent's death there have been some internal power struggles but Carlos has now emerged as the rightful successor. He's been described as the 'Angel's Devil' as his innocent looks disguise the lethal actions he makes himself. He likes to get his hands dirty."

"It's possible that Carlos knew the two Marines from the old days." Nell followed up. "That period of time is very sketchy and we're unsure how much direct gang involvement Edwards and Miller had with the Cartel. It's more likely they were just used as drug runners in San Diego."

"OK, so we can follow up on that angle too" added Callen. "What evidence do we have that Miller is still in Mexico?" Much though he trusted his colleagues to conduct a thorough investigation, he had no intention of spending weeks in the brig if there was any suggestion that Miller could have returned to San Diego.

"There are several clues as a duffle bag with Miller's name on was found a short distance away, together with Edwards' rucksack. There are no reports of a struggle, but it is known that Miller was seeing a Mexican girl in Tijuana - a Catalina Perez. It's all circumstantial but at the moment it's the best we have."

"So the first part of the action takes place in Mexico" said Sam.

"Y'know it doesn't matter how many times we go there, I still don't like it." Deeks stopped as he realised everyone was looking at him, so he continued to play to his audience and to Kensi in particular. "I have sensitive skin and lips, Kensi, you know that."

"Yeah, I know that 'cause every time we go down there it's all you ever moan about." Kensi wasn't going to fall into the same trap Callen did earlier.

"I do not moan," was the indignant response.

"Yes you do", Sam and Callen said in unison as Deeks put on a hurt expression.

"I don't moan, I just comment about certain...things."

"Yeah, over and over and over again." Kensi said to him without a shred of compassion.

"Really?"

"Really," It was Callen this time, whose tone warned Deeks not to continue with this subject matter. He turned to Nell and Eric. "Keep in contact with the Mexican Police. Any sightings of Miller, let me know straight away." Talking again to the rest of his team, he continued. "Right, we've got the rest of the morning to finish yesterday's paperwork and to start work on this and our aliases."

"Does that mean Hetty's still giving us the afternoon off?" Questioned Sam as they walked towards the door.

"Since she hasn't cancelled it, I guess we're still off."

"In that case there is no excuse for you to try out your new alias of Professor Lupin. You remember, from Harry Potter?" Sam started rubbing his hands in glee.

"Harry Potter" pondered Callen, leaning against the centre table. "Isn't he a magician or something?"

Sam laughed, "He is indeed, but don't think you can magic or disappear your way out of this one, Uncle Callen."

Callen glanced in Kensi's direction and they shared a look. Neither of them was keen on children and they had already established a get-away plan for when the afternoon's party became too much for them.

"I saw that." Sam said to them.

"Me too," added Deeks.

Callen and Kensi shared another look as they both feigned innocence and questioned exactly what their team mates meant.

"If you two let me down, I will _never _forgive either of you, neither will Michelle, and neither will my daughter." Sam stabbed his finger at the pair of them, with his most threatening face on, causing both Callen and Kensi to promise to turn up – dressed up.


	4. Undercover Plans

Undercover Plans

Four o'clock the same day, Callen and Kensi returned to HQ. Eric had called to say that a civilian had spotted a man breaking into a house on the outskirts of Tijuana. Mexican Police had attended site and the eye witness's description matched that of Miller. It was ironic really, as Eric and Nell were originally their escape plan from the birthday party, and Sam had taken some convincing that this breakthrough in the case was genuine. Callen had reassured Sam that it wouldn't take all of them to investigate so Sam could stay, as could Deeks. Unsurprisingly, Deeks had all the children totally engrossed in his antics. It was a good job Sam and Michelle hadn't booked a clown...after all Deeks came for free. As they walked in to the office, Nell came to greet them.

"There's not really much more to tell apart from what Eric said to you earlier." Nell briefed them as they wandered upstairs. "There's no video footage at all; it's literally as the eye witness called it. Mexican police have Miller flagged in their systems as wanted by the US military, and as they were only advised on Miller earlier today, the description of him was still fresh in their minds, hence the phone call."

"Well, it turned out to be perfect timing," commented Kensi as she smiled at Callen. "I'm not sure who was about to break first, me or Callen!"

"Oh, it was definitely you," Callen retorted as Kensi shook her head in disagreement.

"No way," said Kensi indignantly. "I swear if that red headed kid had jumped on your back one more time and tried to strangle you with your cape, you were going to cause her some serious damage with Gandalf's stick."

"Err I thought the fancy dress theme was Harry Potter?" Eric interjected as they entered the operations centre.

"It was," said Callen. "Wasn't Gandalf in Harry Potter too?"

"Hopeless" was Eric's response.

"Anyway you're trying to tell me that you were happy with those kids trying to play dolls with you?" Callen said pointedly to Kensi.

"Ok, let's not go there." Kensi recalled the incident with a shudder. "Eric, you called at _just_ the right time to stop us from both committing murder."

"Think he must be getting lessons from Hetty," Callen secretly wondered whether Eric had managed to hack into Sam's home security cameras in the end; after all it was Callen who had gently persuaded Eric to try and do so, in an attempt to rescue him from the party originally.

Nell looked at the two agents standing before her. For the fact they were highly skilled operatives, dealing with terrorists and life or death situations on an almost daily basis, she could not believe that neither of them could handle a children's birthday party. She thought better of commenting though, and decided to bring the subject back round to the case.

"Talking of Hetty..." Nell stopped to allow the others in the room time to remember that Hetty did indeed seem to have eyes and ears everywhere. "Callen I have your alias fully backstopped for you now."

"Great" was the less than enthusiastic response. Callen leaned his elbows against the table and speculated against the kind of military crimes his alias would have committed. More importantly, he wondered about the type of a bad boy background his alias would be given. He could pretty much have made it up himself, and was not surprised at all when Nell continued.

"You'll be Petty Officer Second Class Mitchell Reed with the Navy. A year ago you went AWOL after failing a drugs test, and was later caught with possession of cocaine and also charged with intent to supply. The charges saw you demoted from Petty Officer First Class to your current rank. Reed was recently released from the Brig and immediately went AWOL again. So you'll be in the Brig for the second time when Miller meets you."

Eric had pulled the newly created file on Mitchell Reed on to the big screen in front of them. They'd used an old picture of Callen from when he was last undercover in the Navy, however the details on the attached file were completely different. A cursory glance told him the file had all the correct information relating to Reed's military career, including some earlier discipline issues for insubordination.

"Ok" Callen said "did you set up anything on Reed's upbringing?"

"Yes" continued Eric as he pushed his glasses back. "As it's suspected that someone higher up the command chain at Camp Pendleton is involved, we've prepared a thorough background for your alias that will stand up to intense scrutiny. It's um...I'll bring the file up now"

Eric moved towards the large screen and touched a file which he circled and enlarged, throwing out a familiar looking social services file. Callen skimmed it quickly just to make sure they weren't using his real file. His paranoia was such that he was convinced that one day someone would try to set him up with an alias whose background was too close to his own. This one had some similarities, but then to create a troubled man, there was usually a troubled childhood.

Eric looked at Nell warily and then glanced back to Callen as he skimmed over the details for Callen and Kensi. "Mitchell Reed was raised in a violent home. His alcoholic father James beat his wife Joan and her son, before taking his own life when Mitchell was 13. His mother Joan then also turned to the bottle causing Mitchell to run away. Petty crimes followed with a stint in a juvenile detention centre – and Mitchell joined the Navy the day he turned 18."

"Usual stuff then," Callen turned towards Eric and asked for a copy of his alias's file. He needed to see dates and ages, the types of crimes committed and confirmation of which detention centre Reed had been sent to.

"If there is nothing else for us to do 'til tomorrow, I guess we can call it a night." Kensi's voice had a longing tone to it. After all she was not going under cover and there was nothing else they could prepare for prior to tomorrow morning.

Callen pursed his lips as he thought. "Who's working in the DEA office down in Tijuana, is it still Nicholls?"

Kensi looked at Callen and sighed. It looked like he was intent on staying and working some more.

"Um, let me see." Nell tapped away at her tablet. "Special Agent in Charge is William Frederikson, Senior Agent is Steven Nicholls."

"Nicholls and I go way back and I think it may be time to call in on some favours he owes me. Can you send his number to my phone?" It was a long time ago that Callen was with the DEA, and he had met Nicholls when they were both new recruits. "Change of plans Nell, Kensi and I are heading down to Mexico tonight. We'll hole up at the DEA office and make enquiries first thing. I'll stay out of sight until Sam and Deeks arrive, and then I'll be a waiting prisoner for when Sam finds Miller."

"Do you really think that is such a good idea?" Nell did not like the thought of changing the plans which Hetty had clearly laid out earlier. "What if you get spotted or run in to Miller?"

Callen smiled. "There's pretty much no chance of that. Miller won't be hanging around the DEA office or the police headquarters so I'll be fine. Kensi can start investigating with the police and DEA earlier than planned." Callen didn't add that it also meant he could avoid spending days in prison until Miller was found."

"Sounds OK to me," Kensi leant her support to Callen's plan. Much though she liked Nell, she did have a tendency to be overcautious with ops planning. And Kensi was looking forward to a peaceful drive down to Mexico, without Deeks permanently chattering about nothing.

"Well I suppose it could work," Nell reluctantly agreed, but added a warning. "Not sure what Hetty's going to make of it though."

"You leave Hetty to me," Callen said as he suddenly changed his focuse to Kensi's, who felt the weight of his stare.

"What?" asked Kensi, herself suddenly paranoid by Callen's sudden attention. "You can drive..." She left the sentence hanging as she recalled how Sam always insisted on driving, and that Callen had previously accused her of being such a poor driver he had become car sick. An accusation which she thought had been most unjust.

"Oh yeah, I'll be driving." Callen had spoken with such sudden firmness that both Nell and Eric stopped and stared at the two agents, wondering what was behind both their comments. "But I was thinking that it might be an idea to get you in uniform too."

"And what exactly did you have in mind?" Kensi's response was a mixture of flirtatious, curiousity and indignation.

"It might make sense to have another MP with us, just in case anything transpires with Miller and also to help transport both of us back to Camp Pendleton." Callen looked deadly serious when he spoke again. "After all you'll need to guard us when Sam drives us back."

At this Kensi had had enough; her dark eyes flashed as she placed her hands on her hips resentfully. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with my driving. You're just used to being in a car with a man who drives his kids round all the time. Sam's forgotten what real driving is all about."

Callen looked amused, and rather smug that he'd managed to easily elicit this response from Kensi. Instead of arguing his case or even pacifying her, he said. "Now I know exactly where Deeks is coming from."

At that Kensi moved one step towards Callen and punched him hard in the arm.

"Ow, what was that for?" he complained loudly.

"Really? Anymore and you can walk to Mexico – or better still – we'll wait until tomorrow and you can drive down with Deeks, since you two obviously have so much more in common than I ever thought." And with that Kensi gave a cursory glance at Nell and Eric before walking out of the ops centre.

Callen decided to ignore Kensi's mini tantrum, and spoke to Nell. "Can you sort Kensi out with some MP IDs and backstopping?"

"Sure" was the reply, "I'll meet you down in wardrobe in about 30 minutes to sort out clothing for you both. You might want to remove any handcuffs from Kensi's uniform or you might find yourself a prisoner before you even leave LA!"

Callen gave a half laugh at that and wandered out of ops. Kensi would calm down, and that was at least part of his revenge dealt out to his team for having given him stick earlier that morning about Grace. He looked at the number Eric had sent to his phone for Nicholls. It must have been fifteen or so years since they had last spoken. He knew Nicholls would remember him, but how fond those memories were was another matter. At his thumb was about to hit Nicholls number he heard a voice sternly call out his name.

"Mr Callen," the unmistakable dulcet tones of Hetty Lange rang out in the quiet of the evening. "Would you care to join me in a cup of Rooibos tea?"

Callen immediately changed direction and headed for Hetty's office. Offense was the best defence, he thought, and was certain that the offer of tea would be a precursor to Hetty questioning Callen's changes to the undercover operation.

"I'd love to," he said.

"Goody," Hetty poured tea into her finest china tea cups and passed one to Callen, who raised it to his nose and sniffed.

"Smells a bit tobaccoey," he said, wrinkling his nose slightly.

"Taste it, Mr Callen. It contains a number of anti-oxidants and minerals, and no caffeine!" Hetty studied Callen as he cautiously took a sip. His facial expression stayed neutral however Hetty was certain that he would rather be drinking a strong fully caffeinated coffee, instead of a pure tea.

"So to what do I owe this pleasure, or are you just trying to get me healthy?"

"I understand that Mr Hannah attempts this with you on a daily basis. You really must take care of yourself Mr Callen."

"I always do," Callen nearly slipped up and said that he always had taken care of himself. He really did not have the energy or the inclination for a repeat of yesterday's confrontations, or even this morning's conversations.

"I am glad to hear it." Hetty came straight to the point. "I hear you wish to adjust the operational plans?"

"Yes, with another agent undercover in the Military Police it'll give us a quicker method of getting to Miller. Kensi or Sam could already have arrested me in Mexico when Miller is caught too. And two officers will need to escort the prisoners back; one driving, one keeping guard."

"That sounds like a sensible plan, and also avoids you having to possibly spend weeks in a military prison until Miller is found." Hetty again focussed intensely on Callen. She knew he was not fond of being cooped up in a cell, and weeks inside could present a multitude of other problems. Callen would be unlikely to back down against any prison bullies and would either end up in solitary confinement or in the prison hospital. Whilst that was in line with how both his alias and Callen himself would react, it had the potential to interrupt him befriending Miller, and therefore jeopardize the operation.

"Yup", Callen knew Hetty understood his thinking so far, and understood why. "With both Sam and Kensi undercover as MPs, and me going in as Reed, we'll need another agent to partner Deeks."

"Yes I have been giving this some thought. Although Mr Deeks is LAPD, he is indeed our liaison officer and capable of representing NCIS in this capacity. Rather than send another NCIS agent to Mexico, I thought we could employ the skills of DEA Senior Agent Nicholls and some of his team."

Callen leaned back in his chair. Hetty never ceased to amaze him with her capacity to know pretty much everything about everyone.

"You want Deeks and Nicholls to work together?" He asked.

"Mr Deeks will be primarily investigating the murder of Private Edwards. Due to the suspected drug angle, further assistance will be provided by the Tijuana DEA office."

"I take it you've already spoken with Frederikson?" It was a reasonable assumption, and Callen figured she had probably spoken to Nicholls too.

"That would be correct. I also spoke with Nicholls, who claimed not to remember you at first." Hetty yet again studied Callen as she continued, pushing her thick rimmed glasses firmly up her face. "You, Mr Callen may have a talent for becoming invisible, however as two rookies together, I find it hard to believe that Mr Nicholls could not remember a man whose first name is merely a letter."

Hetty left the sentence hanging in the air, as Callen swallowed. Was that last sentence meant to be an insult to him, as she had said his first name is _merely_ a letter? Or was she implying that she knew something had happened with the both of them as rookie agents, twenty odd years ago? Either way, he had to respond.

"As you said, I'm an instantly forgettable guy." His answer was short and vague.

Hetty smiled. She knew more about Callen that she would ever reveal to him, and although she had a fair idea of what may have happened, it was not her place to verbalise it, unless of course, it became pertinent to the operation or to the well being of her own team leader.

"Of course, of course," Hetty stood up and moved away from her desk. "Come Mr Callen let us see what we can find a Petty Officer who has been AWOL for several months to wear."

Callen rose from his chair and followed Hetty to the wardrobe area. Hetty had been very receptive to his change in the undercover plans and he began to look forward to becoming Miller. He always liked playing the part of rogues, sometimes a little too much. But first he had to face the DEA Senior Agent Steve Nicholls.


	5. Rookie Secrets

Rookie Secrets

Callen and Kensi left after dark for the drive down to Tijuana. With little traffic on the road, and speed limits ignored by Callen, the uneventful journey took them much less than two hours. The conversation was stark, not due to their 'banter' earlier, but rather the fact they were comfortable in each other's company and didn't feel the need to talk – also aided by Kensi falling asleep twenty minutes into the drive.

Callen had spoken to Sam before they had left to explain the slight change in plans. Sam had reacted as expected, challenging the decision for Callen to take Kensi with him to Tijuana tonight, instead of him. Callen had patiently explained his reasoning and also underlined how important he thought it was for Sam to enjoy his daughter's birthday party. There was really little Sam could think of to argue against this line of reasoning, although he was still not happy that he wasn't partnering up with Callen, or that he had to put up with Deeks on his drive down to Mexico the next morning. Threats were made to the well-being of both Callen and Deeks, if the latter proceeded to talk non-stop about anything and everything, which Callen easily shrugged off. He knew Deeks would annoy the hell out of Sam; the two were like chalk and cheese but sometimes sacrifices had to be made, and Sam had never been able to intimidate Callen...

Kensi stirred as the Callen pulled into the gated entrance of the DEA office, and spoke quietly into the communications grill. A low voice crackled a reply and the sturdy gate slowly squeaked open.

"Is this it?" Kensi asked, attempting to take in her surroundings in the darkness. From what she could make out, they were in a large compound with thick concrete walls on two sides, and a building to their right. The dim lights made it hard to establish much else.

"Sure is." Callen parked the car in a designated visitor's bay and switched the engine off.

As they got out of the car and stretched, light flooded out as a door opened and the silhouette of a figure appeared. Another light flickered as a cigarette was lit and the figure moved towards the two agents.

"Agents Callen and Blye?" The question was asked by a young man in his early twenties with hard green eyes and a firmly set mouth. There was no hint of naivety in his demeanour and Callen smiled inwardly, knowing that he himself had been just serious and probably twice as dangerous, twenty odd years ago.

"I'm Callen," he said as he offered his hand to the young man.

"Agent McCoy," McCoy took Callen's hand and shook it firmly, before turning to Kensi and holding out his hand.

"Kensi Blye," Kensi shook his hand.

"Welcome to Tijuana," said McCoy as he took a long drag on his cigarette. "You been here before?"

"Yeah" Callen replied, "I started out with the DEA so spent some time down here."

McCoy nodded his head and turned his attention to Kensi.

"I've been to Tijuana a few times, never on business though." She gave McCoy one of her heart-warming smiles, and was rewarded with him slightly turning up the corners of his mouth. That was a start, she thought, getting the locals onside was crucial as they all had to work together for at least the next few days.

"C'mon, I'll introduce you to Frederikson and Nicholls. We had a phone call from your boss, Miss Lange, and are under strict instructions that only the three of us are to know about your presence here. Everyone else left here about three hours ago." McCoy took one last drag in his cigarette and tossed it on the floor, grinding the butt out with the toe of his foot. He blew out the smoke as he turned and led them towards the door.

The side entrance to the building led them through a short, brightly lit corridor and soon opened into what looked like a holding area. It reminded Kensi of a police station, with a desk straight in front of her protected by heavy bulletproof Perspex. More doorways were to her left and right, presumably leading to holding cells, interview rooms, offices and other areas of the building.

McCoy caught her glance and confirmed her thoughts, explaining that this section of the building was used to process those they arrested. He explained that the DEA office was on the same site as a large warehouse, which was heavily guarded and housed the results of various drug hauls, including the hard drugs themselves, money and confiscated weapons.

"It's certainly grown since I was here last," Callen said as they followed McCoy through another door which opened up into a brightly lit open plan office.

"A lot can happen in fifteen years." A new voice joined their conversation as a man of about forty moved towards them.

McCoy made the introductions. "Agents Kensi Blye and Callen, this is Senior Agent Nicholls."

"Steve," Agent Nicholls said as he shook Kensi's hand. Kensi smiled politely as she recalled this as the man Callen had stated he went way back with.

"Callen," Nicholls and Callen shook hands before taking a step back to look at each other. Nicholls had gotten soft, was Callen's initial reaction. His dark hair was receding badly and he looked like he's been spending too much time propping up the local bars. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, either through tiredness or alcohol. Probably a combination of the two, Callen thought, a long way from the lean and hungry rookie Nicholls had once been.

"Steve," Callen said evenly in reply, as Nicholls openly studied the man in front of him. What he saw came as no surprise to him as he recalled Callen from their time in the DEA together. Even in his early twenties, he remembered Callen as cold, serious and intimidating, and not much had changed since then. If anything he now looked much more ruthless and dangerous; Nicholls had known Callen had stints with various other agencies, most notably the CIA. He looked into his intense blue eyes and tried and failed to get a read on Callen. Frustratingly, the man rarely gave anything away. Whereas they both held secrets on each other from twenty odd years ago, Nicholls was pretty sure that although he might be able to make Callen's life difficult for a while, Callen could actually destroy his career. He had to accommodate NCIS's requests, but he was damned if he was going to roll over for them.

"Glad to be able to assist NCIS," Nicholls said diplomatically, and turned to walk towards an open office door. "Let me introduce you to Frederikson, our Special Agent in Charge of the Tijuana office."

Frederikson stood up and moved to the front of his desk as the agents were herded to his office. The last set of introductions and handshakes were made, and Frederikson re-iterated the welcome that McCoy had made a few minutes earlier.

"Your Operations Manager made it clear that we are to provide you with full assistance for the duration of your stay here, and we are happy to oblige." Frederikson was a tall man in his fifties, with glasses and a moustache. His approach so far had been friendly and he had smiled warmly as he talked about Hetty's instructions to his office.

"The only people who know that you're here are the three of us, until such time you or Miss Lange advise us differently." Frederikson swept his arm in the direction of Nicholls and McCoy. "I've made my two agents available to assist you in whichever manner necessary, just don't keep them tied up for too long."

There came in inevitable warning, were the thoughts of both Kensi and Callen. They would be on a tight leash, and were not expected to take too many liberties with the DEA's hospitality.

"You're assistance is much appreciated," Callen said diplomatically. "If you could provide us with an overview of the Tijuana Drug Cartel, Miller and Edwards now, then Kensi will return in the morning with my other two agents, Sam Hanna and Marty Deeks. I'll lay low in the motel and Sam and Kensi will be undercover as MPs, assisted by Deeks and you two. As Miller is found and arrested, I'll also be under arrest as an AWOL Petty Office Reed and my guys can transport both of us back. If all goes in our favour, we'll be out of here in forty eight hours."

"That sounds mighty optimistic, Agent Callen." Said Frederikson, "Let's hope everything runs smoothly. Steve and Macca will fill you in on everything we have."

And with that comment, all the agents were dismissed and filed back out to the open plan office. They gathered round a large table as McCoy switched on a large LCD screen fixed to the main wall.

"Edwards body was found here." McCoy showed the picture of Edwards' dead body lying face down on a dirt road. Alongside he displayed a road map. "As you can see, this is little more than a dirt track but only 500 metres from the main road that leads to Tijuana."

"Who found him?" Kensi asked.

"A local farmer called the police, who alerted the marines as soon as he was identified."

"And there was no sign of Miller?"

"Both his and Edwards' bags were found a short distance from the body, but there is nothing to suggest where Miller is now."

"So is it possible that Miller killed Edwards?" Kensi verbalised a thought which had been revolving around Callen's head for a while.

"It's possible," interjected Nicholls. "But unlikely. From what we know of these two men they were best friends with a shared past; an understanding of each other. I can't see that either would betray that trust, especially with a bullet to the back of the head. To me this is the handiwork of Carlos Martinez. As the body of Miller has not been found, he either escaped or has been kidnapped by the drug cartel."

Nicholls had looked at Callen for slightly too long during his response to Kensi, ensuring Callen caught his meaning. Everything he had said about Miller and Edwards had once applied to the two of them, and now Nicholls was laying his cards on the table, in a veiled threat not to mess with him.

"Any clues as to where Miller might be?" Callen asked, for all intents and purposes ignoring the double meaning from Nicholls. "We heard he had a local girlfriend..."

"Catalina Perez," McCoy tapped at his keyboard to bring up a photo of a pretty young Mexican woman. "She lives on the outskirts of Tijuana with her father, running a farm."

"Has anyone interviewed her yet?" Kensi asked.

"No, she is of low importance to the DEA and Mexican police. We're both more interested in Carlos Martinez and his re-emerging cartel activities." Nicholls replied. "If you guys weren't about to find him in your investigations, we would most likely have left him to the real MPs. He could be useful as a witness, but they have a habit of turning up dead were Martinez is involved."

"OK, so we'll pay Catalina Perez a visit tomorrow as soon as Sam and Deeks arrive. Maybe Miller will be holed up on the farm and he'll be easy pickings." Kensi started formulating her plans for tomorrow. Maybe they could be out of Mexico in less than twenty-four hours, she thought hopefully.

"So what do you have on Carlos Martinez and the Tijuana drug cartel?" Callen asked. "If Martinez is as ruthless as you say, there could be a race on to find Miller."

"That's a real possibility," McCoy admitted. "Carlos Martinez has been running the cartel proper for the last twelve months. Before that he'd concentrated all his efforts in offing anyone who presented a challenge to his leadership. A lot of dead Mexicans have been found in ditches with bullets to the back of their heads over recent years around here." McCoy ran his hand through his dark hair as he looked at Callen and Kensi. "We have no proof, but word has it that Martinez executes anyone who stands in the way of his cartel personally. He's known as the Angel's Devil due to his cherub-like looks."

Another image was now displayed on the large screen TV. Carlos Martinez, in an image similar to the one Eric and Nell had shown them, looked like an honest young business man dressed in an expensive suit, with short dark hair, soft brown eyes and a face that belied innocence. The demeanour of the man seemed almost introverted. McCoy played an extract of security footage which confirmed the impressions gained from the photos, that Martinez appeared to not have any lethality about him.

"How do you know he's behind these killings? Martinez does not look threatening at all." Kensi threw the question at the DEA guys.

"But looks can be deceiving, Kens, you know that." Callen knew Kensi had to ask the question but thought the response was better coming from him than the DEA.

"I know, but still..." She looked at him, her own brown eyes focussing on Callen in an attempt to seek an understanding of who and what they may be up against.

"One witness decided to talk." Nicholls said. "He gave us graphic descriptions of Martinez in action. He's like a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. A cold blooded murderer, who within seconds reverts back to being an innocent. That witness was found less than a day later with a bullet in him. It's the best we had."

"Sounds like I could miss out on all the fun tomorrow." Callen was regretting that he couldn't be in the op tomorrow, and instead would be waiting it out either at the motel, or in the holding cell of the DEA office.

"Believe me, I would rather you were there and I was sitting it out." Nicholls smiled at Callen, but that smile never reached his eyes.

Kensi caught the looks between the former colleagues, even though there was no tension in the air between them. She wondered what it was all about, and figured that Callen had always had the ability to piss of a lot of people. She was grateful that Callen was sitting this one out, otherwise it would be an added responsibility for the team; to watch each other's backs, focus on Miller, hope the cartel wouldn't show to the party uninvited, and make sure that Nicholls didn't 'accidentally' put a bullet in Callen.

"That's about all there is for tonight. All the information we have is in these files, with a couple of spares for your colleagues tomorrow." Nicholls handed them four rather thick files and a memory stick. "Which motel are you at?"

"Paradise, on the outskirts of Tijuana." Callen replied. "Kensi will return here with the rest of my team at 08:00 hours, and Sam will give you the final brief for the op."

"Small but decent hotel." Nicholls confirmed. "C'mon, I'll show you out."

Another dismissal from the DEA office thought Callen as he and Kensi were escorted to the side door they had come in through earlier. The time was now just after 1am and they now had only a short drive ahead of them before they could finally relax. And only another few hours before a new day dawned and the operation fully commenced.

Thanks for reading and the reviews so far - all very gratefully appreciated!


	6. The Best Laid Plans

The Best Laid Plans

"If you utter another word, so help me I'll..." Sam growled the words out to Deeks as they stepped out of the car towards the side entrance of the DEA office.

"Ok, ok," was the quick reply from Deeks, who stretched out of the car and shook his head like a wet dog, blond wavy hair flying out as he did so. He looked up and slowly drank in the clear blue skies of the early Mexican morning, looking forward to seeing the welcoming smile of his regular partner. Deeks thought that he really must have pissed Callen and Hetty off, to have had to endure spending nearly two and a half hours in a car with Sam.

"Geez Deeks, you're worse than a wild animal." Sam's temper was seriously fraying at the edges. He was going to have some harsh words with Callen next time he saw him. Time with Deeks was always a challenge, and to be trapped in a car with him for so long had almost caused numerous accidents, some which Sam thought he himself had actually instigated; the closest he had ever come to suicide!

"Morning guys," chirped Kensi, walking out of the DEA office door and quickly recognising the tension which was palpable between the two men.

"Kensi," Sam said as he stormed off towards the door and Kensi. "I now have a whole new level of respect for you."

"Thanks, I think..." She replied.

"Morning Kensi," Deeks said. "So did you miss me or did Callen fill the whole for me nicely?"

Kensi stared at Deeks, wondering at the double entendre which could have been contained in that sentence.

"Callen was a welcome relief from your non-stop chuntering, and so filled the gap nicely. I'm sure you'll be pleased to know we slotted back to the same routine we had before you joined our happy team." Kensi said with a sweet smile, knowing her response would wind Deeks up, and he looked at her with a cocked head, again reminiscent of a dog. Kensi thought that Deeks had been spending too much time with Monty, his own dog, and Monty's personality and characteristics were rubbing off on him. Either that or Deeks just naturally had animal instincts. Kensi smiled to herself this time, as she escorted her colleagues into the DEA offices.

Yet more introductions took place between the NCIS and DEA officers, this time with Sam Hanna and Kensi Blye in full military police uniform and Deeks in his customary jeans and t-shirt.

"Agent Callen laid out the plan for us last night," Agent Nicholls said to the new arrivals, as they gathered around the same large table in front of the big screen TV as the previous night.

"There's a strong possibility that Miller has holed up with his girlfriend on a farm here, just outside Tijuana," continued McCoy as he tapped away on his keyboard. With a few clicks of the mouse, various images filled the screen, showing maps of the roads and the farmland belonging to the Perez family. "We'll have the farm surrounded as best as possible by 08:45, and storm the main building and the three outbuildings at 09:00."

"We'll have four DEA officers, led by McCoy clearing the main building." Nicholls said. "Sam, you'll lead the team into outbuilding one, with two of my officers. Kensi, another two officers with you on outbuilding two, and I'll have another three of mine on building three. I can't see Miller hiding out in the fields, but just in case, we have seven mobile officers in vehicles to monitor activity from the surrounding roads. I'll be with one of the mobile teams, coordinating from the perimeter."

Deeks looked at the select group around the table, feeling left out. He knew he had to keep out of sight if he was to offer assistance in the guise of a lawyer further down the line. For once he resisted the temptation to offer some witty remark about LAPD being surplus to requirements.

Sam thought carefully about the plans which Nicholls had laid out. With limited resources and the need to move quickly, this was most likely the best plan which could be made. The DEA specialised in a number of activities including property raids, and he could not think of a way which could improve the plans already made.

"How many civilians are we expecting to encounter," he asked.

"We know of Catalina and her father," replied Nicholls. "And we believe there will be between two to four farmhands present."

Sam weighed up the odds, which were clearly in their favour. "Why the overkill with agents?"

"There is a strong possibility that the Tijuana drug cartel will be wanting to acquire or kill Miller as he was most likely a witness to Edwards' execution." Said Nicholls. "We don't know when or where he'll attack but we have to assume he knows about Catalina Perez, and play this cautiously."

"Sounds sensible," Sam agreed with Nicholls. "Who knows about our real identities?" Sam had to ensure that he knew what he could trust within the DEA.

"That would be me, McCoy and Frederikson. No-one else knows or will know unless we get the go-ahead from either you, Blye, Callen, Deeks or Miss Lange." Nicholls response was purely professional, and Sam was impressed by his attitude and the plans that had been so meticulously laid down so far. "The rest of the team are due in the next five minutes, and to them you and Kensi will be MPs, so expect a fair amount of resistance – nothing personal you understand?"

"We understand," Sam replied for Kensi too. "Kensi, how's Callen this morning?"

Sam and Deeks had headed straight for the DEA office rather than stopping at the motel first to meet up with Callen. They had known the DEA had laid plans, and that Callen would have fully briefed Kensi as to how he preferred the operation to go down.

"He's fine and happy with the plans on how to raid the Perez farmland," Kensi replied, making eye contact with each member of her audience. "He just wants to remind you that he needs to be contacted the moment you have Miller, with details of when, where and how Miller was found so he can ensure he's in place for you later."

Deeks looked at Kensi with an automatic grin, hiding a pang of jealousy. He knew Callen and Kensi had frequently partnered up before he joined the team. Although he was convinced that they did not have the same chemistry that he had with Kensi, he knew they had a connection and understanding which left him feeling somewhat vulnerable, for reasons he could not quite explain.

Sam nodded in agreement. He was frustrated he hadn't had the chance to see Callen yet, but agreed with all the plans so far. Provided Miller was hiding on the farm, they should be able to secure him, meet up with Callen and be heading back to California within a matter of hours.

"Well, if that's all the plans sorted, I'll be on my way to wait this out with Callen. Any messages you want me to give him in person?" Deeks looked at Sam and Kensi in turn.

Kensi shook her head however Sam said, "Yeah, you can tell Callen that next time I see him he'd better have a very good explanation as to why I drew the short straw with you. And if he can't explain himself, I'll knock him into next week."

"Woah, hold up there big guy," Deeks held up his hands to Sam. "I'm a just followin' orders, and I'm spreading my love around. I'll pass that on to Callen, word for word as he now has the pleasure of my company." He glanced slyly at both Sam and Kensi as he started to move to the corridor leading to the car park. "Bet he'll want to partner up with me permanently after this little adventure…"

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Sam retorted, with a slight smile on his face as he thought that Callen and Deeks quite often deserved each other. He turned to Nicholls and said. "Let's meet the rest of your team and get this show on the road."

Within the next ten minutes, another twenty DEA officers had gathered in the open plan office and Nicholls and Sam had jointly laid out the plans for the raid on the Perez farm. Officers were issued to their specific teams; maps of the property had been passed to each team member and vehicles assigned. Before 08:30 all agents were on their way to a medium sized private farm on the outskirts of the city.

A short drive later and the agents were manoeuvring cars in to position at the farm's perimeter and piling out of vans and falling into the pre-assigned teams, checking weapons and ammunition whilst moving quickly and quietly to their respective buildings. McCoy guided his team to the main building, whilst the two NCIS officers in disguise as MPs, and the DEA agents led their teams to the outbuildings. All waited quietly and patiently until the clocked ticked round to 09:00 hours when the order was given by Nicholls to breach.

Each team went in efficiently, covering each room and each other's backs. Within minutes the three outbuildings were given the all clear, and shortly after McCoy's call came across the airwaves stating he had secured Catalina and her father but there had been no sign of Miller.

The teams re-assembled in front of the main farmhouse and Sam spoke quietly but firmly to McCoy.

"Has she said anything?"

"Only to say that she hasn't seen Miller for a week and has no idea where he is," came the reply.

"Do you believe her?"

"No I don't."

Sam walked determinedly over to Catalina, knowing how intimidating he looked in his military uniform and automatic rifle in hand. Before he could reach her, a message was relayed over the radio.

"Attention all agents, Miller has been apprehended," the voice crackled but sounded distinctly like Nicholls. "I repeat Miller has been apprehended."

"This is McCoy, how did you find him?"

"He ran right through the boundary fences in to my car," a sardonic laugh followed Nicholls' statement. "He's now cuffed and sitting on the back-seat, almost knocked himself out."

"Great," was the response from McCoy. "If you're guys can double check the perimeter, we'll meet you back at the office then with Ms Perez and her father."

McCoy relayed his brief conversation with Nicholls to the NCIS agents before he thanked his agents for a job well done.

Sam dialled Nicholls mobile. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," was the short but sincere response from Nicholls.

"I know Miller'll be taken back to the DEA cells, but I'd like to see him beforehand." Sam spoke grimly, frustrated that he did not directly have the pleasure of apprehending his suspect.

"Sure," Nicholls said. "I'll leave my teams to tidy up and I'll be with you in two minutes."

"Appreciated," was the brief response from Sam, and he signalled to Kensi to move away from the DEA officers so they could discuss their situation in private.

"With Miller captured so quickly it means we may have to split up again," Sam said to Kensi.

"I guess so," Kensi said. "Someone may need to stay here and investigate the murder of Edwards. He was a marine after all…but why can't we get someone from the San Diego office down to take over? It'll free us all up to focus on Miller and the military angle."

"Agreed," Sam thought through Kensi's idea. "San Diego NCIS agents have much closer ties to the DEA office here in Tijuana, and we do have other responsibilities. I'll call Callen, take Miller back to the DEA HQ, ask the routine questions and set out the preliminaries for Edwards' murder enquiry. Hetty can liaise with San Diego who can take over and work with the DEA on the drug angle and murder."

Just as they finished talking a black SUV pulled up in the farm's driveway. Nicholls exited the vehicle and opened the rear door. Miller was gently moved to a standing position besides the vehicle. He was dressed casually in jeans, stained grey t-shirt and a ripped denim jacket. His dark brown hair framed his pale face and his eyes were a vivid blue. He was giving off a feverish hue and was sporting an egg shaped lump on his forehead.

Sam pulled himself up to his full height and marched over to Miller.

"Private Miller, I'm Major Williams with the Military Police." Sam spoke with the voice of authority that commanded respect.

"Sir," Miller stood to attention and saluted the Major, although the effort made him woozy and he left the salute early to steady himself against the SUV.

"This is Lieutenant Alva," Sam introduced Kensi, and again Miller attempted a salute. "You will be taken back to the DEA office for a preliminary interview, we'll get that head wound seen to, and then we'll escort you back to Camp Pendleton, where you'll be held in the brig until your trial. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Miller had a resigned look on his face and was staring at his feet.

"I beg your pardon Private," Sam's voice rose as he demanded respect from his prisoner.

Miller's head snapped up as he stared at a space just to the left of Sam's head. "Yes sir."

"That's better, Private," Sam turned abruptly away from his prisoner, followed smartly by Kensi.

Out of earshot, the two agents quickly conferred with McCoy, requesting the young DEA agent call Callen to advise they were to leave the Perez farm in five minutes, and ensuring a medic was available to check the head wound on the prisoner. The last thing they needed was for Miller to die on them for an untreated bang to the head.

Gradually the various DEA squads reconvened in the farm's driveway. Sam and Nicholls were in the lead vehicle with Miller in the back, accompanied by Kensi to guard him. McCoy had Catalina and her father in the back of his SUV, and the three farm hands were split into three other vehicles. Before the clock had swung round to 09:45, the convoy of vehicles were on the move.

The drive back was longer due to the convoy and the extra caution that everyone took. Passengers were surveying the sun baked landscape and all vehicles for any signs they were being followed. Martinez and his cartel had not made an appearance at the farm, but if they had been watching, there was a chance they could be ambushed on the return journey. The communication between the agents was constant. Every potential threat was reported to the lead vehicle, who in turn was scouring the horizon for any danger from the opposite direction. Within five minutes Nicholls was approaching the junction where the dirt road and the main road met. Knowing the rush hour traffic would be heavy and continuous; he advised all teams to be extra vigilant. He was just replacing his radio to its cradle when a man ran in front of the SUV, causing him to break suddenly.

"What the..." Nicholls exclaimed as he braced his arms against the steering wheel. He was grateful that everyone was wearing seat belts and surprised that none of the airbags had exploded.

The man had placed his own hands on the front of the vehicle in an effort to stop himself being propelled into the air, and instead had bounced off and landed several metres in front of them.

"That's...Reed," shouted Sam, as Callen had stared into the eyes of the occupants of the front seat, before being thrown to the ground. Sam swore inwardly, thankful he had the presence of mind to recall Callen's undercover name, and doubly mad that Callen had to change plans again without telling anyone. He should be locked up in one of the DEAs holding cells, not roaming the countryside hoping to be caught, he thought angrily.

Callen hauled himself up from the dusty track, stared wildly at Nicholls and Sam before limping off into a nearby field. Nicholls quickly unfastened his seat belt, swung open his door and chased after Callen. Sam quickly whirled round to Kensi and ordered her to remain with Miller. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kensi draw her gun and train it on Miller. He hoped that Martinez wouldn't decide to attack now – and he would kill Callen if this destroyed their mission. Sam got out and chased after the two men.

Nicholls had the head start and was surprising fast for a man of his stature. Within thirty seconds he had caught the limping Callen and rugby tackled him to the ground, dust spewing up as their bodies landed heavily on the barren farm land.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?" Nicholls let his temper fly as he roughly rolled Callen over so he was facing him.

"Improvising," was the smart response, accompanied by a vicious right hook to Nicholls jaw.

Nicholls fell towards his right as Callen rolled over and struggled to get up from underneath him.

"Not so quick you bastard, I've been waiting a long time for this." Nicholls voice was rising as he again tackled Callen before he could take off. This time he dealt two quick blows to Callen's face and a third punch to his kidneys.

Callen was winded but moved his hands up to Nicholls neck in an attempt to strangle him. Before he could make the connection, Sam arrived and quickly hauled Nicholls off of Callen.

"What are you playing at Senior Agent Nicholls?" Sam shouted at the man, wondering what in hell had come over him.

Nicholls wiped his bloody nose and replied, "I was apprehending a violent escapee."

"Really, it seems he came off worse than you! Ever heard of hand cuffs?" Sam's attention was fully on Nicholls and he failed to notice the look of pleasure which was slowly spreading over Callen's face.

"I'd call it police brutality and I wanna press charges with you as the witness." Callen smiled and pointed to Sam as he spoke. Blood was now running down the side of his face from a cut eyebrow. He made no attempt to wipe it away.

"It's called reasonable force you little shit," Nicholls spat. "And you've got no grounds as you threw the first punch. And I have witnesses to that."

"Like hell you do," Callen knew he was going to like playing Reed, especially as he was going to be able to press Nicholls buttons.

By now the two men were squaring up to each other and Sam was holding them apart at arm's length. Suddenly Callen made a run for it. Sam pushed Nicholls roughly back and told him to stay there as he chased after his escaped prisoner. Within seconds he had caught Callen, grabbing his arm and spinning him round.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sam glared at Callen, demanding an answer.

"Playing my part and making it look convincing for Miller," Callen replied. He could see Sam was all riled up and wanted to provoke him. The worse picture he could paint of himself for Miller – in front of Miller's own eyes – the easier he hoped it would be for Miller to bond with him.

Callen wrenched his arm from Sam's grasp pushed Sam back angrily, then again moving forward so he invaded the larger man's personal space. "How was the journey down with Deeks?" He murmured to Sam, looking into his eyes with a smile. "Bet it wasn't half as blissful and me and Kensi's drive. You know I'm thinking we should swap partners permanently. You could learn so much from Deeks as..."

Before Callen could stop talking at him Sam roughly pushed Callen. Sam had had enough. He'd openly threatened both Deeks and Callen about swapping partners and whereas he would never carry out his death threat, he could certainly make their lives hell. The force of his push made the shorter man stumble before hitting the ground hard. That in itself was enough to wind Callen but quickly got to his feet and brushed himself down before once again moving into Sam's personal space.

"Is that all you've got, military man?" Yet again Callen smiled at Sam, but this time his voice was quiet and threatening, almost a whisper. If Sam hadn't known better, he would have been intimidated and extremely worried about the sudden change in attitude.

"Just shut up and turn round," Sam reached for his zip ties as he took a tight hold of Callen's arm and twisted him around. "I don't have time for your games or your smart mouth." He forced Callen's other arm behind his back as he secured the ties tightly, causing Callen to wince slightly. "Would've been better for you if you'd just gone straight to the cells."

"Yeah but wouldn't have been half as much fun as getting one over on Nicholls."

"G, what is it with you?" Sam shook his head is desperation as he marched his prisoner back towards the convoy of vehicles.

As they passed Nicholls, Callen gave him a smile. Nicholls gave him a look that could kill, and the DEA agent went back to the car. Sam marched Callen past the car and Callen took the opportunity to make eye contact with the prisoner inside, winking at him before being led to the fifth car back which was empty of prisoner's from the farm raid. Sam opened the rear passenger door and ordered Callen in. Sam followed to keep guard. Orders were relayed over the radio to each vehicle, and once again the journey back to the DEA office commenced. Sam hoped that this time, it would be without incident.


	7. Trouble

Thanks for all the reviews so far, all very much appreciated. Hope you all keep reading, enjoying & reviewing...

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Trouble

The convoy of vehicles entered the gated compound of the DEA office. After the last SUV passed through, the heavy gates grinded together and the prisoners were escorted into the processing area via the side entrance. The foyer quickly became claustrophobic with seven prisoners, two MPs and about fifteen DEA agents, and the noise level increased dramatically, with the Perez family and their farmhands talking rapidly in their native Spanish. Nicholls and McCoy struggled to make themselves heard above the din, and Sam who had been standing behind Callen, manoeuvred his way through to Nicholls. Callen seized the opportunity to slide his way through the bodies towards Miller, who himself was attempting to move to the back of the room to Catalina.

"Woah, not so fast lover-boy," one of the DEA agents grabbed Miller by his left arm and guided him to the front desk. "Last thing we need is you two creating alibis for each other."

Miller swayed as he stepped forward and all colour suddenly drained from his face. He turned to his left, his eyes barely focussing on Callen as he collapsed to the floor.

"Medic," Callen shouted loudly. "Over here, prisoner down."

With his hands tied he could not catch Miller as he fell, and again shouted for a medic, making eye contact with any agent that looked at him.

Sam rushed to Miller's side and unlocked the handcuffs, quickly followed by a serious looking man in a white shirt and grey trousers, carrying a bag. The man knelt besides Miller, peeked into his eyes with the aid of a flashlight, and checked his pulse. Miller stirred and opened his eyes.

"What happened?" He muttered as he took in the multitude of faces staring down at him.

"I'm Dr Garcia and you just passed out." The man kneeling next to him said. "Looks like you've had a bit of a bump to the head, so I'm going to take you to the medical room to examine you some more."

Callen peered at the large egg-like lump which was evident on Miller's temple.

"Looks like Nicholls' handiwork to me," he said loudly to anyone in earshot. "Look what he did to me earlier!"

"Jeez you just don't shut up do you?" It was Nicholls who reached out to Callen, grabbed him roughly by the arm and led him through to door towards the furthest cell. Pushing him inside he said, "May be some time on your own will quieten you down some."

Callen stumbled and landed on the single bed attached to the side wall. With his hands still tied there was little he could do to either keep his balance, or to protest.

"Hey, what about untying me?" He glared at Nicholls, who then marched into the cell and hauled Callen to his feet.

"You should've thought of that before you started playing at undercover criminals," Nicholls hissed. "I'm not playing at anything; I'm just the Senior Agent dealing with an unruly prisoner."

"Protocol states you have to untie me," Callen's steely stare held firm and he could feel Nicholls's hatred of him seep through every pore.

"And since when have you been a stickler for the rules? You used to bend them to suit your own ends, and it doesn't look like you've changed one little bit."

"Yeah, well rules are made to be broken," Callen broke away from staring at Nicholls and suddenly smiled, knowing it would rile Nicholls more than anything else at the precise moment. "You know that more than anyone." He took a step back and as the backs of his legs touched the edge of the bed, he sat down. "And you know damn well I can prove it."

These last whispered words at last provoked the desired reaction from Nicholls, who roared as he grabbed Callen by the collar and again hauled him to his feet by his collar.

The noise caused several DEA agents, quickly followed by Kensi to pour into the cell. It took three men to break Nicholls hold of Callen. Nicholls threw Callen a dirty look and allowed himself to be dragged back down the corridor, leaving Kensi and McCoy in the cell with Callen.

McCoy shook his head and once he was happy the other men were out of earshot he said, "I've worked with Nicholls for five years now and I have _never_ seen him behave like that."

He stared accusingly at Callen and waited for an explanation. None was forthcoming.

"I think you'd better stop winding Nicholls up" Kensi warned Callen. "At the rate you two are going, one of you is going to blow this op."

"Well it won't be me." Callen replied nonchalantly. "Get me out of these ties will you?"

Kensi pulled out a knife and slit through the zip ties. Callen loosened his shoulders and arms, rubbing his hands around his wrists to get the circulation going again. He then raised a hand to his cut eyebrow. "Miller might not be the only one with a headache."

"As soon as the doc's finished with Miller, I'll send him your way." McCoy turned to leave, adding. "We're on your side, y'know. Don't make this anymore difficult than it needs to be. I'm sure you can have more fun playing the bad guy once you're in the brig."

Kensi watched McCoy leave. "He's right you know. I think Miller's got the message that you're a real bad ass. And what is it between you and Nicholls?"

Callen leaned his elbows on his legs and thought about his self imposed predicament. "Nicholls and I are just picking up where we left off."

"Which is?" Kensi prompted Callen.

"Nothing."

"Well it's not 'nothing' if you two blow this entire operation before it's barely started." Kensi knew how awkward her Team Leader could be, but she had never seen him act so recklessly with no obvious reason. To be honest, she thought his attitude had started as soon as Hetty had given them this case. True, Callen often questioned the reason for their involvement in certain investigations but he never actually jeopardized them.

"Fine, just keep us away from each other." Callen rubbed a hand over his head, and again fingered the cut by his eyebrow and the bruise he could feel by his eye. "Does this look really bad? It feels really bad." He asked with a gleam in his eyes.

Kensi smiled sweetly at Callen. "Just be careful it isn't Sam you provoke into giving you a matching one, he's still pissed at travelling down here with Deeks. Look, I'd better leave you now before someone thinks you've taken me hostage or something."

"That's not on today's agenda…"

Kensi cocked her head slightly to one side at that remark and exited the cell, locking the door behind her, leaving Callen alone as he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes.

She opened the door to the main prisoner reception area and was met with a much calmer atmosphere and a lot less bodies. A number of the DEA agents had now disappeared and Miller was nowhere to be seen. Still being treated by the doctor, Kensi thought as she surveyed the room. The three farmhands had just finished being processed and were being led past her through to the cells, and that left Catalina Perez and her father waiting. McCoy was talking to the father and as he saw the farmhands being escorted away from the main desk, he gently took the old man's arm and led him to the Sergeant for processing. Not seeing Sam, Kensi approached Nicholls who was pouring over some paperwork attached to a clipboard.

"Well everything seems to finally be under control Agent Nicholls," Kensi ensured she remained formal, in keeping with her role as MP.

"Thankfully," Nicholls glanced up at Kensi, noticing the seriousness and authority she emitted. She sure suited that uniform, he thought. "That prisoner Reed behaving himself now?"

"He's calmed down and assured me he wouldn't cause any more trouble."

"Did he give any indication as to why he was provoking me?" Nicholls was curious as to how close this team really were. The man he remembered hardly let anyone in. Even though they had bonded as rookies, Callen had always remained in tight control of himself and his emotions. It had been the loosening of tongues with alcohol which had seen the beginning of an irreparable rift between them.

Kensi met Nicholls' gaze, "Because he could. I think he has a problem with authority. Quite ironic really, considering his chosen career."

Nicholls nodded, realising the answer could equally pertain to Callen or his undercover alias. Whichever, he could see the bond which was present between the young woman in front of him and his former partner.

Before he could engage Kensi further in conversation, Sam entered with Miller who looked much better than when Kensi had seen him last. The pupils of his eyes were back to normal and his face now had an element of colour about it. The egg sized lump on Miller's head was showing more and within the next few days would change to a purplish colour. His hands were un-cuffed and he raked his fingers through his hair, stopping as the palm of his hand touched the bruise.

"So Major," Kensi turned to Sam. "What's the verdict on Miller?"

"He needs to rest up but the doc won't pass him fit for interview or travel until he's re-assessed him tomorrow morning." Sam replied. "He can rest in the cell with half hourly obs."

"No problem," Nicholls said as he motioned Miller towards the door leading to the cells. "I'll take him through."

Kensi quickly looked at Sam, concerned as to whether this would lead to another encounter between Nicholls and Callen. Sam caught the look, and although he didn't understand the reason for it, he understood the warning that Kensi's eyes conveyed.

"I'll follow to make sure he settles Ok." Sam said. "I also want to check on the other prisoner, Reed."

"Sure," came the curt reply and all three men took the short walk through to the cell area.

In line with the type of arrests made by the DEA, the cells were not open in the sense that bars separated them. Instead they were individual brick cells with tiled walls and a solid steel door that contained a hatch which could be opened to check on the prisoners. Sam guessed that Callen had been led to one of the farthest cells, where any disturbance he caused would not inflict distress on the others.

Nicholls led Miller to the open door of the cell on the far left. Miller hesitated at the entrance and Nicholls gave him a gentle prod. "In you go son,"

Miller remained silent as he walked through and sat on the bed.

"Just relax, as Major Williams and the doc said, we'll check on you every half hour so don't worry." Nicholls closed the door shut with a clang and the locking mechanism slid smoothly home.

"Which one is Reed in?" Sam asked.

"Here," said Nicholls. "Knock yourself out."

He opened the hatch to check the status of Callen, before unlocking the cell door. Basic training and years of experience was drilled into all law enforcement officers to visually check where the prisoner was before opening a cell door. Callen lay on his back on the bed, apparently asleep.

"Give us a minute?"

"Sure, I'll be back in five, but I'll have to lock you in together – since he attacked a federal agent and tried to escape," said Nicholls.

Sam looked at Nicholls, expecting there to be a hint of a smile but saw none.

"Fine, but please send Lieutenant Alva in, so I have a witness in case the prisoner tries anything."

Within thirty seconds, Kensi joined Sam and Nicholls locked them in together with Callen. The two agents stood silent for a minute, waiting for Callen to open his eyes.

"You gotta be kidding me," Sam muttered. "The man doesn't sleep normally but he can sleep like a baby in a prison cell..."

"Hey," Kensi prodded him gently so as to not wake Callen with a fright. The last thing either of them wanted now was an unsuspecting Callen to wake up thinking he was being attacked.

Callen opened his eyes. "I wasn't asleep y'know."

"Yeah, right," Sam said.

"Right, I heard every word you were saying Sam."

"Of course G, whatever you say." Sam had a broad smile on his face.

Callen eased himself up and swung round into a seated position. "So what did the doc say about Miller?"

"He has a slight concussion and is to rest up with regular obs until the doc clears him for interview and travel tomorrow." Sam's voice spoke of the frustration he felt at this delay.

Callen groaned slightly. "So I have to spend twenty four hours in a cell with _Senior_Agent Nicholls waiting to pounce."

The emphasis he had placed on the word 'senior' was apparent to both his colleagues.

"What's going on G? I thought Nicholls was one of the good guys." Sam realised that Kensi's warning look a little earlier was to ensure that Nicholls and Callen didn't try for round three. And Callen didn't turn on people for no reason. "He's been exemplary so far, although you two were a bit heavy handed with each other in the field, and you were pushing his buttons here before he hauled your ass in to a cell."

"We got history and I just used that to my advantage." Again Callen's response shed no more light on the matter.

"Well it looks like you came off worse," Kensi said with a wry smile.

"Exactly, means that I'm in the same boat as Miller, with injuries caused by a DEA agent."

"I thought that Miller ran into a car door?" Kensi asked, puzzled.

"If Miller has any sense, he'll soon change that story into one of brutality at the hands of a federal agent." Having read Miller's file, Callen thought that his inbuilt street sense would ensure that lie would quickly roll off the tongue, and Callen would be there to back him up with his own story.

"Great, so let's hope he recognises that you're a kindred spirit tomorrow." Sam added. "Now, you were telling me about Nicholls..."

"No I wasn't,"

Sam rolled his eyes in frustration and looked at Kensi.

"Callen," he growled in a low voice. "If there is something between you and Nicholls you'd better tell me now."

Callen stared up at his partner and then to Kensi before moving his gaze to the wall behind them. He was silent, thinking. Kensi opened her mouth to speak as Sam held out his hand in a motion to stop her. Callen stood up and started pacing round the small cell.

"Short version will do," Sam added.

"Short version is all you're getting," Callen stopped and snapped his head round to Sam, again staring at him intently with hard blue eyes.

"C'mon G, you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." Sam spoke with a soothing voice this time; anything to persuade his partner to open up a little.

Callen sighed deeply and started on his short version of the story. "Nicholls had something on me which he used, I had something on him which I still have today. He was the reason why I left the DEA."

The agents exchanged glances. Kensi felt as though she was intruding on the special bond which existed between the two men and had to physically prevent herself from taking a step backwards to give them more space.

"The reason you left..." Sam left the question hanging in the air, hoping that Callen would confirm his suspicions that Nicholls had forced Callen to resign. The other options wouldn't exactly leave Callen with the same level of respect he believed the team currently had for their team leader.

"Ok, I was asked to leave." Callen did not drop his stare for one second; it was an act of defiance and a challenge should either of the agents be willing to accept it. He wasn't ashamed of any of the actions which led him to being fired as a DEA agent and he certainly wasn't going into any further details.

Kensi's eyes widened slightly, the only giveaway that she was surprised and slightly shocked by the admission. But it was Sam who responded. "We'll talk about this later."

"No we won't," replied Callen, locking the door on the topic of his DEA career. "Look, I'll be fine and Nicholls will be fine. In less than a day we'll be on the move and we can both forget we ever worked together in the DEA." Callen lay back on down on his bed, effectively drawing the conversation to a close. As he closed his eyes he added. "Now if you don't mind..."


	8. Re-Grouping

Re-Grouping

Several hours later, Senior DEA Agent Nicholls had completed his interviews of Catalina, her father and the farm hands. As undercover Military Police officers, Sam and Kensi were unauthorised to conduct or assist in the interviews and instead witnessed these from the viewing area. With Deeks having been left to his own devices in the motel room for half the day, Sam and Kensi headed back to fill him in with the latest situation and to report back to Hetty in the Ops centre.

Sam had not been overly impressed with Callen's choice of motel. Admittedly it was set back from the main road on the outskirts of Tijuana; a small motel with 20 rooms, two of them now booked under aliases for use by the NCIS team. Out back was a small swimming pool, although based on the colour of the water, it was a distinct possibility that it was last used as a giant bath for someone very dirty. The reception area was only slightly cleaner and Sam was not looking forward to seeing the conditions of the rooms, let alone the beds. Kensi had attempted to reassure him that the rooms were fine, but Sam had a feeling he might try sleeping in the car that night. He could argue that he could keep watch for any trouble easier than from his room.

"You've been hours," Deeks complained as soon as Kensi walked through the door, followed by Sam.

Deeks was lounging on the bed, lap top on his thighs, ear-phones in and the TV on. A cup of coffee and biscuits were laid out on the bedside cabinet. He looked like he had managed to create his own entertainment.

"We've been working Deeks," Sam said gruffly as he purposefully walked over to their LAPD liaison officer and pulled out his ear-phones.

"Ouch," exclaimed Deeks loudly as he automatically raised his hands to his ears. "That hurt, and I've been working too. What d'ya think I've been sitting here watching MTV all morning?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Although Deeks was often a source of amusement to Sam, today was not one of those days.

"I don't think you've been watching MTV all morning," Kensi smiled sweetly at him. "You've been watching America's Next Top Model..."

"Busted!" Said Sam as he glanced over to the TV, this time allowing himself a wry smile that almost touched his eyes.

"Well, I was only watching it for a short while as I thought I could pick up some handy hints I could pass on to you Kens, I know how much you love the show, and well it was a re-run and I don't think you've seen this one before and I wouldn't want you to miss out and..." Deeks tailed off as he finally had to take a breath.

"See what I mean? Two and a half hours drive down here and the man barely stopped to take a breath he talked so much." Sam shook his head in despair.

"Yup, welcome to my world Sam."

"Well if Callen doesn't end up getting himself killed on this case, I may just do it for him if I have to partner up with that again." Sam was again letting the frustrations of the morning get to him. First Deeks, then Callen and now Deeks again. It would be just his luck to get back to the DEA office tomorrow morning and find Callen had caused another load of trouble.

"Ah, Sam I'm really not feeling the team love here." Deeks looked up at Sam with big innocent blue eyes, peeking out from under his long shaggy fringe. "Callen never has any problems with me, we were fine this morning."

"That's coz you two are more alike than you think," Sam replied. "You both like a rash that won't stop itching."

"Why thank you," Deeks moved the laptop to one side and climbed off the bed towards the small table which was completely covered with various electronic gadgets, including another laptop.

"As you can see, I've been busy surfing the net for-"he caught sight of Sam's face and quickly changed tact. "Callen and I hooked up with Ops, and it looks like Nell and Eric have been busy bees."

"Great," said Kensi. "What have they found? With Miller's head injury we haven't even gotten close to starting."

"What's this?" Deeks asked with concern.

"Miller tried to run and ran straight in to Nicholls car door," Sam said with a smile, which faltered as he continued. "Callen decided to join in and ran into the front of Nicholls car a bit later."

"What, really?" Deeks looked between the two agents and failed to recall the part of the op where Callen deliberately tried to get himself run over. "Why?"

"He thought it would endear himself quicker to Miller." Kensi said.

"Instead he's managed to piss of Nicholls." Sam added.

"Really?" Deeks knew Callen could be 'awkward' at times and figured he'd get the full story from Kensi later as he sensed Sam wasn't in the mood for gossip.

"Deeks, you're sounding like a stuck record!" Sam warned.

It was all Deeks could do to stop himself from saying 'really' again. He smiled to himself, thinking he'd just demonstrated a considerable amount of self control.

"OK then, back to the case." Deeks started.

Sam's phone rang before they could get any further, the caller ID said it was Ops, so he answered and touched the loud speaker icon.

"Hey Sam, it's Eric. I've got Nell and Hetty with me."

"Hey guys," came Nell's voice over the speaker.

Hetty as usual, greeting them in her customary formal manner. "Well Mr Deeks, I understand that you have been deprived of company for the duration of the morning."

"Well Hetty all I can say is that my magnetic personality has drawn them back to me now."

"Yeah, but Callen felt the need to get himself locked up and that was only after spending an hour with you." Sam spoke with a smile as Deeks again attempted a kicked puppy dog look.

"Now now Mr Hanna," Hetty interjected, asserting her authority despite the distance. "Miss Jones has managed to uncover some interesting information about our Private Miller and the Tijuana Drug Cartel."

"Indeed I have," and Nell's excited voice broke across the airwaves. "I managed to delve further into Miller's arrest file, the one which led him to the juvenile detention centre, and found that he was there at the same time as a David Medina. Now Medina is a US citizen who grew up in San Diego and was a known associate of Miller's from high school. However when I started digging into his details, it turns out that he is another half brother of Vincent and Carlos Martinez."

"Wow, sounds like someone got around a bit," Deeks did not even realise that he had automatically filled in the natural pause in Nell's story. He was rewarded with a light punch from Kensi.

"That's right. Their father Roberto Martinez liked to spread his love around." Eric continued, with a comment that caused a few chuckles from all the agents.

"Thank you Mr Beale." The agents in the hotel room all exchanged looks as they continued to smile whilst picturing the scene back in the ops centre in Los Angeles.

"It seems that the Roberto Martinez became friendly with a San Diego lady of the night, whilst on a business trip away from his various families across the border." Nell went on. "Young David Medina ran away to Mexico aged fourteen to find his father and search for his inheritance. A year later he returned to his mother in San Diego, but brought with him Vincent Martinez and the Tijuana drug cartel. Medina was later arrested for possessing enough crack cocaine to keep his entire high school high for months."

"It seems that Miller and Medina were passing acquaintances at school until Medina returned from his year sabbatical. By this time Miller was into petty crime, and his records suggest that he helped Medina sell drugs to local schools." Eric paused for a few seconds to ensure the information was sinking in. "Unfortunately there was never any evidence to prove this. It was sheer coincidence that they were both locked up in the same facility at the same time for different crimes."

The agents in the hotel room turned towards each other.

"So it sounds like Miller is not quite as innocent as he seems." Kensi said, plopping herself down on the bed.

"But yesterday's information confirmed he had an almost perfect service record until recently." Deeks puzzled. "So he went from being a teenage petty criminal, to a teenage drug dealer who was incarcerated due to a violent attack whilst drunk. And then he became a Marine who pretty much kept himself out of trouble until a few months ago."

"It does happen, I've seen it plenty of times before," Sam pondered, rubbing his chin. "Something doesn't quite add up."

"It is possible Mr Hanna, that Private Miller is more involved than we thought." Hetty broke into their chain of thought. "How did the interview go?"

"It didn't" Sam responded curtly. "He tried to escape through some bushes and ran head-long into Nicholls car. Got concussion and the Dr won't let us talk to him until tomorrow."

"Damn," Hetty swore. "And has Mr Callen settled into his role as a disgraced Petty Officer?"

"Yeah."

"Whatever do you mean Mr Hanna?"

"I mean that he's settled into his role like a duck takes to water."

"Ah yes indeed. Mr Callen does have a knack of switching personalities at the click of one's fingers."

"I dunno Hetty, it seems more than that. He's reminding me of that Jason Tedrow character from a few years ago. Y'know, the one that Callen really enjoyed playing; the one that just seemed to attract trouble..."

"Oh, I see Mr Hanna." Hetty slowed her words down as she thought. "Well I will have to trust that all three of you are able to keep a close eye on Mr Callen to ensure that he stays out of trouble."

"Yeah, right." Deeks muttered. With Callen spending most of his time behind bars for this operations, watching his back was going to prove somewhat problematic. Sam overheard and shot him a daggered look.

"What's the deal between Nicholls and Callen?" Sam had to know what was going on as he had genuine concerns that next time they returned to the DEA offices even more trouble would brew between the two men.

"I believe they have a history," was Hetty's diplomatic response.

"What kind of a history?" Sam pressed.

"It is not my place to enlighten you, Mr Hanna, even if I could."

"Hetty," Kensi interrupted the stilted conversation between Sam and Hetty, with concern in her eyes. "Callen wasn't just playing a part earlier. He went for Nicholls who gave as good as he got, and was provoking him later."

"And Callen was acting edgy before he left here," Deeks added. "I thought he was just preparing himself, but in light of all this..."

"We're just worried he might jeopardize the op if he carries on this way." Sam came right out and said it.

"I understand your concerns, all of you. However this time tomorrow you should have successfully transported Private Miller and Mr Callen to Camp Pendleton, and Agent Nicholls will no longer be a problem." Hetty hesitated before she continued, unwilling to divulge any information she had about Callen's past. "It does appear though, that they have resurrected some former grudge from their DEA days."

"Yeah Callen said as much."

"Well that is good, we know how Mr Callen likes to keep things close to his chest. What else did he say?" Hetty asked cautiously.

"Did you know Callen was kicked out of the DEA?" Sam blurted out the question accusingly. He was not entirely against the belief that Hetty instigated the whole scenario to ensure Callen and Nicholls deliberately crossed paths.

"Hmm," Hetty gave a little chuckle. "I was aware that Mr Callen was asked to leave the DEA, however I also know that by that point, he had been successfully head hunted by the CIA."

The team caught each other's eyes and smiled themselves. Hetty had just made it sound as though Callen had been asked to leave because of the CIA; by mutual consent. She had managed to take the wind out of their sails and for the moment the team breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Just take good care of him, Mr Hanna. Now please fill me in on any other news pertinent to this case. I assume there were other arrests?"

Between Sam and Kensi, they filled in Hetty and Deeks on the earlier activities, detailing their observations of the interviews which had revealed nothing. Nell and Eric managed to corroborate the results of the interviews through their searches; none of the farm hands had any connections to any drug cartel or the military, and the same went for Catalina and her father. When as much information as possible had been shared, the conference ended.

Sam made a call to the DEA office and spoke with McCoy to check that all was well with Miller and Callen. McCoy had no incidents to report; both prisoners were quiet and behaving themselves. Nicholls had left for the day and the night duty guard was an experienced agent who had been instructed to contact both Nicholls and the MPs should there be any trouble or concerns. Sam relayed the night set up to Kensi and Deeks as they called it a day in terms of work and prepared for a quiet evening meal together. The following day would see the exchange of the prisoners into the care of the undercover MPs, and their transportation to Camp Pendleton, so with a busy schedule ahead of them an early night was in order.

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Thanks for continuing to read, please also review. As my first story and multi-chapter, feedback is much appreciate!


	9. Transit

Thanks to Hope06 for pointing out the embarrassing spelling error of Sam Hanna's name in the previous chapter (now corrected), and as for the lack of Callen - I felt the chapter was necessary for the plot, but be assured that Callen is back for the duration now!

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Transit

As the heavy cell door squealed open, Callen opened his eyes for only the second time that morning. The first time was when breakfast had been delivered to him; the tray left untouched on the floor by his bed. It looked and smelled rather unappetising, and Callen figured that although he needed to eat, breakfast wasn't worth the agony of moving. Bruising around his eye from yesterday's encounter with Nicholls' fist was still causing him some pain, and Callen guessed the bone itself was bruised. With no mirrors present he could again only guess his eye had a rather purplish tinge now. At least it wasn't particularly swollen, which meant he could squint to ascertain who was entering his cell, and whether it was safe to fully acknowledge his consciousness and their presence.

He saw the tall muscular figure of his partner enter the room, dressed in his military police uniform and followed by Kensi, also appropriately attired. For a brief moment he marvelled at how much the uniform suited Kensi, and quickly allowed a small smile to tweak at the corner of his mouth. He opened his eyes fully as the undercover agents closed the door behind them.

"We have about two minutes alone with you before the prison guard comes knocking," Sam said in a low voice, despite the thickness of the walls that prevented sound from travelling. "So how was last night? Sleep at all?"

"Not too bad considering," Callen replied, moving only his eyes as he glanced at his colleagues.

"Your eye looks tender," Kensi said. "You put ice on it?"

"Nah, pain killers yesterday; not been offered anything else." Still Callen had not moved and Sam was already getting inpatient.

"You'll survive," said Sam. "Come on, we've got about two minutes before we have to make a move and then they'll be no time to catch up for at least half a day."

"I know...so what have you found out?" Still Callen did not move.

"Well Miller was in the juvenile detention centre the same time as a David Medina, who he also knew from high school. And Medina is another half brother of Vincent and Carlos Martinez. Medina only met them and his father when he was in his mid teens, and from then on found a new home in the family drug business." Sam summarised the information they had gathered the previous afternoon.

"So," Callen added. "The likelihood is that Miller is more involved than we originally thought."

"That's right," Kensi continued. "He certainly isn't the man in charge but we now know that he has connections and is most likely the lynchpin between the cartel and the drugs on base."

There was a loud knock on the door, followed by a loud well practiced voice shouting that their time was up, and they had to move the prisoner on out.

"On our way," Sam shouted back, before lowering his voice to Callen. "Come on, stop being so damned lazy, you never sleep and you're trying to convince me you've slept well all night?"

"I'm up," Callen muttered as he rolled slightly to his side and positioned his arms to give him leverage. As he sat up he inadvertently groaned and grabbed his side.

"Are you OK?" Kensi asked quickly, leaning towards him with concern on her face.

"I'm fine," Callen blazed a look at her as he stood up slowly, grimacing and still holding his side.

"No you're not," Sam shared Kensi's concern. He knew Callen had taken a number of punches the previous day, some to his torso, in addition to being struck by the SVU.

"It's just some bruised ribs from yesterday," the long practiced lie ran smoothly off Callen's tongue as he calmly touched Kensi's arm. "It'll heal in a few days, and just no bear hugs from you, big guy."

"Hmmm, we'll get you to a medic when we arrive at Camp Pendleton." Despite the joking from Callen, Sam was worried about the pain that moving was causing Callen. Better to have the medic double check there were no fractured ribs before Callen – and possibly Miller – managed to wreak havoc in the brig.

"Put your hands in front of you," Kensi ordered Callen, and her team leader did as he was told. Kensi slapped on a pair of handcuffs as Sam banged for the cell door to be opened.

Gently prodding Callen to start moving ahead of them, the three walked down the short corridor to the doorway of the foyer. Once through, Kensi guided Callen to sit down next to Miller, who was already seated, cuffed hands in front of him, eyes focussed firmly on the ground. Neither man acknowledged each other's presence. Callen blanked out the dull pain that sitting down had caused and focussed on the white wall dead ahead of him, listening carefully to Sam's conversation with Nicholls who had entered from the offices beyond.

"So Agent Nicholls, no trouble from these two prisoners last night?" Sam jerked his head towards Callen and Miller.

"None whatsoever, when I came on duty at 0600 hours they were both sleeping like babies." Although Nicholls voice was deliberately loud enough, with added emphasis on the word 'babies', neither man rose to the bait. "From what I hear Miller ate well last night and this morning, but Reed was right off his breakfast this morning."

Only Callen could hear the deliberate taunt with Nicholls last statement. Breakfast had been delivered personally by Nicholls himself. He had placed it carefully on the floor close to the door and watched as Callen had stood and started to bend to pick the tray up. As he did so, Nicholls had raised a knee sharply to Callen's left side. Callen had doubled over in pain as Nicholls quickly and viciously followed through with a punch to the same area. Callen had collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath, whilst without saying a single word Nicholls had exited the cell. Just as Nicholls had figured, there had been no point in Callen alerting Sam or Kensi to this unprovoked attack; their operation was just about to commence in earnest and Nicholls could always be addressed later. Callen had long learnt how to quite literally live with the blows life dealt him, often lying glibly to the appropriate people, and frequently exaggerating the pain and injuries to his own advantage.

"Reed seems to be in a fair amount of pain from his ribs this morning," Sam continued. "We'll get him checked out thoroughly in a few hours back at base. Hopefully they will both have learned to look before running into roads."

Sam and Nicholls both laughed at this, whilst the two cuffed men slowed changed their focus to the two men who were needlessly enjoying their misfortune.

Nicholls presented various forms to Sam, who signed and dated them and took his copies, handing them to Kensi. The two prisoners were now officially in the custody of the Military Police.

Kensi ushered the men to their feet and said her thanks to McCoy who was holding the door open for her. Sam saluted Nicholls and uttered his goodbyes, hoping he wouldn't have too many more dealings with Nicholls on this case. Whereas he hadn't been obstructive, Sam was still concerned about the unresolved history he had with Callen. However much Hetty had tried to play it down, Sam was fairly convinced there was much more to it.

Outside the sky was a clear blue and already at 10am the temperature was a soaring 85°F. Both prisoners squinted as they stood outside and looked around them. For almost twenty four hours they had been locked in a small windowless cell and now they were about to be locked in USMC Prisoner Transporter to bake for about half a day. Kensi ordered Miller to lift his arms to allow her to fasten a belt around his waist, before ordering him in to the back of the vehicle. There she fastened the floor chain to the belt and the handcuffs. Once happy with the security of the first prisoner, she repeated the process with Callen. Neither man offered any resistance and their silence was only broken by Callen quietly stating he needed help to step into the van. With the men secured, Kensi climbed in with them, causing Callen to smile inwardly, well aware that Sam had won the battle to drive.

The rear doors were secured and the engine started with a loud growl. Callen recalled the last time he was in this scenario; this time there was no planned ambush or escape. He had no desire to form a bond with Miller by creating a common enemy in Kensi, or even Sam. During the journey and their subsequent imprisonment Callen intended to develop a friendship based on trust and honesty. The irony was not lost on him and with Miller's background, Callen reckoned he could dredge up the odd story from his youth to help them bond. The van made a right turn as they left the DEA offices and Callen breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"At least we're going somewhere civilised now," Callen muttered to no-one in particular.

Miller looked at him and gave an unsure smile. Prisoners' talking amongst themselves during transportation was frowned on by the military and by law enforcement in general. Callen caught his eye and smiled back. He wasn't sure how far he could push Kensi, but he needed to establish a rapport quickly to ensure Miller would seek him out once in the Brig.

"I'm Mitchell Reed," Callen introduced himself. "Mitch. Petty Officer whatever class they're gonna bust me down to this time. I would offer your hand, but I'm a little tied up here." Callen was hoping that friendly, charismatic and dangerous was the right combination to attract Miller.

Miller gave a more certain smile and responded in kind. "Private Miller with the US Marine Corps, Cody to my friends."

Callen felt the last comment meant he was already half way there with Miller. It also made Miller sound younger than his thirty years, and maybe a little desperate to be liked by the older prisoner. Callen studied the man in front of him. He'd obviously gone several days without shaving and the buzz cut hair was already growing fast. He allowed his eyes to slowly move to the top of Miller's forehead, where the remains of yesterdays knock were still visible through trace amounts of clotted blood and an egg shaped lump.

Miller felt the focus of Callen's stare change and he inadvertently moved his hands towards his head, only to have them jerked down due to the short length of the chain.

"Looks bad does it?" Miller asked Callen with genuine concern. He still had a slight headache, however the nausea and dizziness from the concussion had finally abated overnight.

"Nah, just some dried blood. They didn't allow you to look in a mirror then?" Callen replied with amusement in his voice, anticipating that his question would allow Miller to reciprocate.

"No mirrors," Miller hesitated before adding. "Guess you haven't had a chance to admire your shiner?"

"Shiner?" Callen turned his head abruptly in Kensi's direction. "Lieutenant Alva here kindly told me that it looked 'tender'. You could have told me the truth; I would have taken it like a man, that my supermodel good looks had been tarnished forever." He winked at Miller and they both looked at Kensi, waiting and hoping for a flash of a smile to melt their hearts.

None was forthcoming, and their guard stared firmly ahead at the rear doors. Kensi was glad Callen wasn't giving her a hard time. It wasn't that she couldn't handle it, but it just made this particular job a little more pleasant.

"So did Nicholls ram the car door into your head?" Callen asked.

"Something like that, yeah." Miller smirked at Callen who nodded his head in understanding. That would now become the truth about his capture. "What about you?"

"Well first that bastard tried to run me over, then he punched me, and when you collapsed at the DEA, he attacked me again." Callen looked slyly at Miller. "You know I think Nicholls has a problem with military criminals..."

"Yeah, it certainly sounds like it" Miller laughed.

"He certainly has a problem with me. These bruised ribs," Callen gestured to his side as best he could with handcuffs, and his voice suddenly became malevolent. "Nicholls decided to pay me a visit and sucker punched me as I woke." Callen lowered his voice and leaned towards Miller. "Shame we can't do anything about it from in here."

Miller had stopped laughing and leaned forward to catch Callen's words. He immediately caught on to the hidden meaning and responded accordingly. "I know people who can get to him."

"Me too," Callen whispered in return. "We need to talk about this later."

"That's enough! Lean back and stop whispering!" Kensi ordered sharply. As the two men leaned back against opposite sides of the van, Kensi reflected on the snippets of the overheard conversation. Callen was totally entrenched as his alias Mitchell Reed, yet she had witnessed him as his true self, deliberately provoking Nicholls the previous day for his own personal reasons. She really could not tell where his truth ended and the lies began. Would Nicholls really be so unprofessional as to deliberately and repeatedly attack Callen, an undercover federal agent? It could explain why his injuries were more intense this morning. But more of a concern to her was how far Callen's feelings of malevolence towards Nicholls really went. The one and only time she had seen Callen this way was during their 'trip' to Romania, and that ended with a lot of bloodshed. Kensi's gaze wandered between the two men who were both hanging their heads and starring at the floor like a pair of naughty school boys, each with a slight grin on their faces. Callen was wired but without a button cam and the feed was transmitting back to Ops. Sam and Kensi were not wearing ear-wigs but she would be asking Eric and Nell to review all the sound feed carefully.

Each was lost to their thoughts for a moment; they were jolted back to reality as the van's breaks were slammed on. Within seconds the rear doors of the van were opened and Sam quickly climbed in with keys are started unlocking the cuffs on both prisoners.

"Major?" Kensi asked abruptly.

"We've had news of a planned ambush by the Tijuana drug cartel. There's a plain transit van arrived so we need Miller and Reed moved there immediately," Sam spoke efficiently and with authority.

"Come on man, quick." The colour had immediately drained from Miller's face and his eyes were wide open in panic as he spoke frantically his superior.

Sam paused in his work and stared hard at Miller. "You will not forget who you are or who you are addressing Private, or I might accidentally forget to take you with us."

"Sorry sir," shouted Miller, before adding a plaintive "please?"

Sam shook his head as he finished unlocking Callen. Both he and Kensi quickly guided the men out of the prisoner transporter and into a plain, non-description dirty white van. Once inside, handcuffs were again secured with Kensi remaining in the back with the two prisoners. Sam had quickly removed his uniform jacket to reveal a white vest barely covering his thick shoulders and heavily tattooed arms, before jumping into the driver's seat, pulling away with squealing tires. The van they were now in appeared conventional from the outside, and from the front cabin, however the rear section was fitted with seats. From the outside it could pass for a normal transit and pass undetected through the roads of Mexico. Miller had hunched himself back into his seat, whereas Callen had leaned forward in an attempt to see out of the front windscreen.

"Well as far as I can remember I haven't pissed off any local drug cartels and I'm pretty convinced these good MPs here haven't," Callen paused until Miller had no choice but to meet Callen's stare. "So what the hell have you been up to?"

"Mitch," Miller implored. "I...I..." He trailed off as he leaned forward to peek through the front windscreen.

Silence ensued for several minutes before Callen leaned forward, gesturing with his head for Miller to move closer to him.

"What we were saying before" Callen whispered in a barely audible voice, "I seriously know people who can help you. We'll talk later."

"I will not tell you again," Kensi raised her voice and glared at the two men. "Do not whisper. Do not lean into each other."

"Do we have trouble in the back there Lieutenant?" Sam's glanced over his shoulder.

"Nothing I haven't addressed sir." Kensi's charges gave the impression of being defeated and neither made further comment.

"Good, looks like it worked." Sam focussed on the road ahead. "Now how about you two just do not talk; period."

Sam smiled inwardly. With the two prisoners whispering conspiratorially, he was certain Callen was forming a bond with Miller that would easily be cemented after their arrival at Camp Pendleton and the subsequent imprisonment. His only concern was that Miller didn't know another prisoner already in the brig, as that could potentially change the dynamics between the two men. Together with Kensi, Sam had planned the ambush merely as a ruse, designed to ruffle Miller's feathers to see how he would react.

Coincidentally, five minutes after leaving the DEA office Eric had called Sam to advise he had intercepted emails sent to Carlos Martinez from a highly encrypted email address, alerting the cartel leader to the transportation of a prisoner who was high on his hit list. Details of the transportation van, number of guards, prisoners and most likely route had been given, together with possible ambush sites along the way. Sam and Kensi's own plans had been for the swapping of vehicles to take place shortly after leaving the DEA offices and Sam had take a calculated risk to leave the same plan in place. So far the cartel had only been a peripheral threat, and Sam was unsure how far their reach was. If Miller was taking orders from a contact within the marine base as was suspected, the operation could suddenly become much more dangerous for all involved.


	10. Interrogation

Interrogation

The remainder of the journey took place in comparative silence and without further incident. They arrived at the entrance to Camp Pendleton and waited patiently whilst Sam vacated the driver's seat to exchange pleasantries and paperwork with the duty sergeant. After several long minutes, the final leg of their journey saw the van drive along a stretch of beautiful untouched California coastline. Camp Pendleton covered a vast one hundred and twenty five acres of land, seventeen miles of which was coast. Only a small portion of this was used by the Military to practice amphibious attack exercises and large sections were enjoyed by the Marines and other military personnel during their downtime. The unadulterated coast made for perfect surfing conditions and was also a haven for wildlife. Fantastic views of the Pacific would have made this a realtors dream; however it was highly unlikely the Government would sell off this prime location. Soon Sam turned inland and was driving through the lush hills and plains, where he spotted bison roaming free. He thought how he would love the opportunity to drive his children through this rich landscape.

It was a little after lunchtime when they eventually arrived at Area 24. Kensi had struggled to keep her focus on the prisoners, and Callen and Miller had struggled to stay awake. With no windows and no conversation there was little stimulation and the warm air circulating in the van had not helped any of them. The van drew to a halt and Sam wound down the window to exchange a few more brief words and paperwork with the tall man guarding the gateway to the Brig compound. The thick steel gate opened quietly and the van crept forward to the designated parking bay where he parked up and jumped out.

He opened the van's rear doors and all three occupants jerked their heads expectantly in his direction.

"Sorry to wake you ladies up," he said addressing the two men who were looking at him with heavy eyes. "Time to move."

Kensi manoeuvred Miller out the van and Sam had Callen, who grimaced as he stepped from the van to the asphalt.

"As soon as you two are processed, you're both being checked over by the medics before being taken to your cells." Sam firmly prodded the two handcuffed men through the doors towards the holding area where they sat down to await military processing.

Another forty minutes later and with handcuffs now removed, both men were now attired in blue jumpsuits to indicate they were pre-trial prisoners. They were shown around the facilities; work areas, kitchen, dining area, exercise yard, gym and common areas with TVs, before being herded down a bright clean corridor towards the medic bays. The main room was similar to a hospital ward, with three beds each on opposite walls which could be separated by pulled curtains. Two smaller examination rooms were further down the corridor. Several nurses were busy in the ward when Sam and Kensi escorted the prisoners in, and both were led to beds on opposite sides with the curtains pulled round to offer a modicum of privacy.

A senior nurse checked Miller's fitness to be interviewed after his concussion and Callen chuckled when he heard Miller state that he had run into a car door next to a DEA officer. Just at that moment a Doctor entered the cubicle shuffling papers on a clipboard. With practiced efficiency, the doctor asked the standard questions to establish identity before requesting information on Callen's injuries. Callen responded in parrot fashion to confirm that he had ran into a car bumper driven by a DEA Officer, and later had ran into his fist. A stifled snort resonated from Miller and the doctor raised his eyebrows, ordering Callen to remove his top. Callen unbutton and shrugged himself out of the top half of his jumpsuit revealing some rather nasty deep red and purple bruising to his left rib cage.

Sam shook his head and caught Callen's eye before the undercover agent focused on the doctor's examination. Various prodding and controlled breathing confirmed that no ribs were broken and that the bruising would start to fade in about five days.

As Callen re-dressed himself carefully, the doctor asked Callen when he believed he obtained the injuries to his ribs.

"Yesterday morning, when I was hit by the bull bar of the SUV and then tackled to the ground."

"Hhhmm," was the considered response. "Judging by the colour and shape of the bruising, I would say you didn't sustain this injury from being hit by a car. This is more consistent with being hit repeatedly by a fist, no more than six hours ago."

The Doctor turned towards Sam and asked him to leave the ward. The doctor followed Sam to the corridor and showed him to a seat a good ten meters away, before returning to his patient.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?" The doctor asked Callen, who simply shook his head and remained silent, "There have been instances, albeit rare ones, whereby Military Police chasers have become rather 'heavy handed' shall we say."

Callen sat ram-rod straight and stared directly ahead of him, avoiding the gaze of the well meaning medic.

"You have already admitted an altercation during your arrest yesterday, but the bruising to your ribs clearly happened this morning..."

Callen changed his focus to the doctor and studied him intently. He could see the man meant well and was clearly dedicated to his profession. Maybe a bit too dedicated and keen to allow Callen to point the finger at Sam, under the guise of an MP.

"I ran into a car and was then tackled to the ground by a DEA officer," he recited the same story from a few minutes earlier in a monotone voice and a hard, uncompromising stare.

From past professional and personal experience he knew the doctor would not push him any further. They never did. Callen was right and after a stubborn silence on both parts, the doctor dragged open the curtains and gave Callen some parting advise to take it easy for the next few days to allow the bruising to heal.

Kensi had already escorted Miller towards the cells, and Sam was finally alone with Callen.

"So what's this all about?" Sam hissed as the two walked further into the Brig.

"Well I've gotten Miller on side so all we need now is time to sit down and talk further. Guess we're in the same cell?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Sam tried to keep the smile from his face. "Have you accused me of punching you in the ribs?"

Callen stopped mid corridor and faced Sam. "As I told the doc, I was hit by a car and then tackled to the ground. Just took a while for the bruises to come out."

"Get moving." Sam muttered in dispair. "And that's bull and we both know it."

"Fine," Callen gestured with his arms as they moved through sets of internally locked gates before reaching a two man cell. Miller was already sitting on the right bunk reading some papers.

"This is you, Reed." Sam waited outside the cell as Callen moved in. "You'll be sharing with Miller while you both wait for your hearings."

"Cosy," Callen remarked as Sam walked back down the corridor. The cell was of a reasonable size and the door was left open. They were in a minimum security wing as although Miller and Callen's undercover persona of Reed, both posed a flight risk, they were of no threat to anyone and their crimes related to unauthorised absences.

Callen eased himself down on the vacant bunk, grimacing slightly as the movement cause him discomfort.

Miller glanced up and asked, "Did Nicholls really attack you this morning or was that just a line to try to hook in that hot MP chick?"

"Nah, he waited until I was reaching for the breakfast tray, then punched me in the side and kicked me when I was doubled over." Callen stated all of this in a matter of fact manner. "Should've seen it coming..."

"At least my concussion was an accident. Nicholls really has it in for you." Miller slowed the last sentence as he pondered what that meant. "You met him before?"

"Never," Callen lied glibly. "But I've known people like him all my life. Think just because they're law enforcement they're better than you and can treat you like shit. I thought being in the military would have changed all that...should've known better, especially by now."

"Yeah well may be he would have more respect for you if you weren't a deserter." All trace of the earlier frightened marine had now disappeared as Miller goaded Callen.

"You don't know what I'm here for so don't judge me." Callen turned on Miller just as quickly as he had.

"So what are you in for?" Miller asked accusingly.

"Deserting," answered Callen with a wry smile, breaking the tension that had very quickly developed. "Several times..."

He was rewarded with a chuckle from Miller. "You are strange Mitch. But I think I'd like you on my side..."

Callen was intrigued by Miller. Within the space of twenty-four hours he had seen Miller sick with concussion, friendly, frightened and now he was full of it. He was still an easy read however; he wanted to be seen as tough but craved friendship. His weakness of character had been evident through with the vehicle transfer episode, and that was what Callen needed to explore and exploit.

"What about you then? What did you..."Callen was interrupted with the arrival of a prison guard who entered the cell and stood in front of Miller.

"Miller – follow me." The barked commands saw Miller reluctantly stand, and shrugging his shoulders he followed the guard down the corridor in silence.

They walked through the communal games area, along another whitewashed corridor and through two sets of locked doors before arriving at an interview room. The guard rapped his knuckles on the door and opened it smartly upon hearing the command to enter. The guard motioned Miller to move ahead of him into the large plain room.

In the centre was a plain table with one vacant chair to the left. Occupying the two chairs opposite were Sam and Kensi as Major Williams and Lieutenant Alva. Miller moved towards the empty chair, pulled it free from the table and sat down. He placed his hands together on the table in front of him, lightly tapping his fingertips together as he waited for someone to speak.

"Private Cody Miller," began Kensi as she flicked through the Marine's file in front of her. "Do you know why you're here?"

"For unauthorised absence." Miller spoke calmly.

"Any other reason?" Kensi asked.

"Not that I know of," Miller could not think of another crime he had committed.

"You are here, in this facility, for the military crime of unauthorised absence," stated Sam. "You are here in this room, to be interviewed about the murder of Private Tommy Edwards"

The words hung in the air as Miller's head spun in an attempt to interpret the words he had just heard.

"Where were you when Edwards was killed?" Sam fired the question to Miller and was met with silence.

"Who else was you with?" More silence followed and Miller studied the palms of his hands to avoid eye contact with the two undercover NCIS agents.

Kensi flicked through a plain file and selected four A4 sized photographs and slowly laid each of them in front of Miller. They were crime scene photos from Edwards' murder in Tijuana, taken by the local police and the DEA. The first one was a landscape shot of the road with the ditch running along the background. In the middle was a body with a small patch of blood surrounding the head. The second landscape photo was a closer shot of the body laying face down in the dirt. His clothes were dusty and a red patch of matted hair was clearly visible. Kensi glanced at Miller who had visibly paled. Still without commenting, she laid out the third photo which was a close up of Edwards' head. The bullet hole was clearly visible, the hair matted with sticky dark blood which had pooled on the ground. The last photo was of a non-descript plain black rucksack sitting in a ditch.

Both Sam and Kensi waited patiently for Miller to start talking. It was human nature to want to converse and explain, especially when confronted with potentially incriminating photos. Miller was clearly frightened; his foot was now lightly tapping on the floor beneath the table and his hands were now clenched together in his lap. His eyes danced skittishly between Sam, Kensi and over the photos on the table. Both agents resisted the urge to prompt Miller into speaking and within a minute they were somewhat rewarded for their patience.

"I wasn't there when Tommy was shot. I was um," he looked up at Kensi apologetically. "I was relieving myself in the field beyond the ditch when I heard tires squealing, a single gunshot and car doors slamming." After a hesitant start he had blurted out the truth and now slumped in his chair, relieved at unburdening his secret.

"And what did you do?" Sam asked.

"When I heard the gunshot I went to ground." Miller admitted guiltily.

"Didn't you try to help your best friend?"

"It was over in seconds. I had no weapon and by the time I crawled to the ditch I could only see a car driving off."

"What colour?"

"Black," was the immediate reply.

"Make, model, plates?"

"No plates, black Mercedes...drove south."

Sam noted down these details. With no other witnesses, no traffic cameras and no leads the car would prove to be of little use. Forensic evidence and ballistics had already confirmed the weapon was the same that had been used in at least another half a dozen unsolved executions in Tijuana and the surrounding area. One had even taken place on US soil, in San Diego.

"Why was Edwards killed?"

"I don't know," Miller shook his head.

"Who would want him dead?"

"I don't know,"

"Why was he executed by the leader of the Tijuana drug cartel?" Sam changed the adjectives used and dangled additional, albeit unconfirmed information, in front of Miller.

Miller glanced up sharply at Sam, who prodded his index finger at the close up photo of Edwards head.

"Your best friend was executed with a single shot to the back of his head, while you were taking a leak. Ballistics confirm the same weapon has been used in at least 7 other shootings in Mexico and the US, all linked to Carlos Martinez. Both you and Edwards recently tested positive for cocaine and were involved with the cartel as teenagers. You know why Edwards was shot and you can help bring those killers to justice. What happened?" Sam appealed to Miller's guilt at not being with his friend when he needed him, and to his conscience to do the right thing.

Miller's fear of Martinez, the cartel and the repercussions of speaking far outweighed his need to avenge his best friend through justice. Self preservation instincts had kicked in the second he heard the single gunshot, and he had already convinced himself he was a dead man walking. Miller merely shook his head at Sam and reverted to silence. Despite another barrage of questions, Miller refused to utter another word and he was soon escorted back to his cell. As Sam and Kensi reviewed what little they had learned, they hoped that Callen would have better luck in getting Miller to talk.


	11. The Brig

The Brig

When Miller returned to the cell, Callen was nowhere to be seen. As new inmates they were being held at Camp Pendleton until charges were made and sentencing was formally passed, and no work detail would be assigned to them until the following day and so both men were free to use their time wisely. Late afternoon activities for all prisoners provided the opportunity for an hour of exercise, use of the library, visits to the chapel and counselling. The evening saw the men wind down in the communal areas, usually in front of the television, or back in the cells.

Miller sat down on his bunk and placed his head in his hands, which automatically roamed to the previous day's head wound. The past five days had proven to be exceptionally long and stressful. His best friend had been murdered, he had been on the run from a drug cartel, his girlfriend had been arrested, he'd been arrested and the cartel attempted to ambush the MPs prisoner transportation. Now he was in a military prison, stuck in a cell with a man he could not quite work out and with an uncertain future. Sure his cell-mate Mitch Reed had been friendly, but he got the impression there was something dangerous about this man. In a matter of seconds, Reed had moved from genuine light-heartedness to extremely threatening, not only in his use of words and body language but in his eyes, and that worried and scared Miller. It also reminded him of his best friend Tommy Edwards. He was another man that with the flick of a switch could change personalities; a real Jekyll and Hyde character. Miller reflected on Tommy's life and his own. So much had gone wrong in their early years, most of it beyond their control. But since they signed up together their lives suddenly had a future; direction and purpose. That was, until they were approached three month ago. Miller raised his eyes and focused on the blank wall opposite him and wondered how the hell he had found out...

Caught up in his own thoughts, he failed to notice Callen hovering around the cell entrance. Callen stood in silence and assessed Miller for at least the fourth time that day. He knew that Miller had been interrogated by Sam and Kensi, although he was unaware of what information they may have extracted. From Miller's body language, Callen judged that his colleagues had been unsuccessful in obtaining anything useful. In his expert opinion, Miller was a tormented man and therefore vulnerable to all sorts of manipulation. However it also meant he was potentially volatile; if not handled carefully the man could explode with unpredictable results. Miller's psychiatric evaluations indicated no preference towards violence as a problem solving mechanism, and it was only whilst under the influence of alcohol as a teenager, had he randomly attacked a man. Callen knew first hand that most psych evaluations could be easily manipulated and therefore weren't worth the paper they were written on. A desperate man would call on desperate measures; animal instincts and that natural human instinct of self-preservation and survival.

Callen walked into the cell and into Miller's line of sight. The younger man looked up as Callen eased himself down on his bunk.

"Still giving you pain?" he asked.

"Nothing I can't handle," Callen replied. "What about you, that head OK now?"

"Yeah, might even have knocked some sense into me."

"You sure about that?"

"No..." Miller looked up thoughtfully. "You've been inside before." It was a statement, not a question and an unexpected change of conversation.

"Maybe," Callen gave an instinctively cagey reply.

"Military or civilian?" Miller saw Callen's evasiveness as an admittance of guilt.

"Does it matter?" He wouldn't give away easy answers; one of the many tricks of manipulation was to let your victim feel as though they had tricked you.

"Both then," Miller provided himself with the answer. "Let me guess, civilian before joining up and the brig on at least several occasions since."

Although Miller felt he was correct with all his assumptions, he was not gloating and Callen felt it necessary to let Miller in, in order for him to reciprocate later in the conversation. Callen gently leaned back against the wall and forced himself to relax, taking a deep breath before exhaling slowly.

"As a kid I was sent to a detention centre, and then later I was persuaded to join up to get a 'fresh start' or so they sold it to me. Trouble is that I've always had problems with authority and institutions, so this," Callen waved his arms around in a gesture meant to encompass military life, "may have gotten me off the streets, but it also meant I've constantly fought a battle with myself to behave. It's a miracle I've lasted this long."

"So you think this is it?" Miller asked with genuine curiosity as he feared his career path was quickly going to follow his cell mate's.

"Wouldn't be surprised. Got my lawyer coming tomorrow, reckon he'll say I'll get eighteen months and a dishonourable discharge."

"What'll you do then?"

"Serve my time and then get the hell outta this joint. Maybe build a little radio shack on a beach down Mexico way. I got some friends down there that can use my technical know-how." Callen allowed his gaze to linger on Miller as he slowly laid out a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow.

"Who do you know down in Mexico?"

"People...just people...What about you, Cody? I reckon you've been around a bit too, but maybe not as much as me." Callen smiled slightly to encourage Miller.

"I went to juvie too, down in San Diego but only for a few months. It's where I met my best friend, Tommy."

"He must be something then. I spent some time in the Dallas Country juvie centre – longer than three months - and I never made friends there. It just wasn't done."

"Well a bit after that we joined up together and since then he's always been with me, until..." Miller paused.

"Let you down did he?" asked Callen to elicit a reaction. "Never trust anyone, they always let you down."

Miller stood abruptly and started to pace up and down the small cell. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he ignored Callen's taunting.

"Tommy was great, we kept each other sane and sensible until...and then...and then the stupid bastard tried to get us out by negotiating." Miller stopped in front of Callen. "He was executed; single gunshot to the back of the head. Those bastard officers showed me close up photos that I'll never forget. I trusted him with my life and he was executed."

Miller flopped down on the bunk, emotionally shattered by his short outburst.

"I'm sorry man," Callen offered an apology. "Never had anyone that close. I mean I know we fight for each other and stuff as a team but what you've just lost..."

"That's Ok. I think without each other we would've lost it years ago."

"You know you'll be alright. You'll probably get six months max and go back on active duty. I've got no hope. Already been busted down and I've got slightly more charges than being AWOL to worry about."

"But I thought you said -"

"Well I don't know you and you seem to know some people that maybe might want to know me. And you can't trust no-one." Callen's convoluted response made Miller think.

"Look, Mitch I really don't know anyone." Miller looked up at Callen with a resigned look. "Really, I don't know anyone, and I don't even have anyone. I got my best mate murdered and my girlfriend arrested. And I'm scared they're coming for me next."

"What in here?" Callen made a show of how quiet and empty the cell and the adjoining corridor was. "The brig is probably the safest place you can be - much safer than a civvie jail. And you said Tommy was executed. Was this down in Mexico?" Miller nodded his head. "Drugs then, that's what this is all about isn't it?"

Miller again nodded his head. "We didn't want to get involved but he knew stuff and we just..."

"Drugs" Callen repeated as he leaned forward, forgetting for a moment the twinge he felt at the sudden movement. "He made contact with you and said he would make your secrets public. You'd be kicked out of the military unless you distributed his cocaine."

It wasn't difficult to reach this conclusion at all, and Nell and Eric's backstopping of his character meant he could spin his alias's crimes to match Miller's real story.

"How did you guess?" Miller's defences were now down and his shoulders were slumped in defeat.

"Something similar happened to me about a year ago, although I never tried to negotiate, just tried to run when it got too heavy."

Silence fell between the two men as they both thought about what these revelations meant. To Callen, it was confirmation as to how two men with good service records were coerced into cartel involvement. He now needed to 'compare notes' with Miller to deduce a list of possible culprits.

"You said you knew people down in Mexico!" Miller sat bolt upright on his bunk, pushing himself to the edge with his hands on the edge, ready to launch. "You knew it was about drugs. They sent you didn't they?"

Miller was wild-eyed and as Callen held his gaze, he shrunk back to the wall in sudden fear.

"No-one sent me Cody," Callen was suddenly back-peddling as his anticipated manipulation was starting to spectacularly fail. "Look, I've been done for drugs more than once over the last twenty-five years – and that includes dealing and taking. I've also done stuff that meant I should never have been allowed into the military. Somehow someone found out and they got to me several times. First time was in an ally-way at night. Never even saw him, just heard the voice. I ignored them and the next time they pulled a blade on me. Then there were the phone calls, and the failed drug test."

Callen stopped to look at Miller. He had no idea how Miller and Edwards were approached so he tried a combination of likely techniques that may have been employed. The clincher should be the failed drug test. Miller's facial expression was now less fearful but still full of disbelief.

Callen continued, "I don't know how they did it, but there was no way I failed the drug test. Not taken anything for the last three years but I managed to fail a routine test. Next time they contacted me they said they would do more until I did what they wanted. Figured it might be easier and safer to play along for a while..."

"Hhmm," Miller slowly nodded his head. How could he really trust someone he had met in a prisoner transport vehicle? However his story bore some striking resemblances to his and Edwards own encounters. There were some differences, but then Mitch Reed was a Navy man and not a Marine. Different tactics for different victims, he figured.

"I just don't know anymore," Miller said forcefully, and with a jerk he pushed himself off the bed and walked out of the cell door, determined to pound his frustration out on a punch bag.

Well that went well, Callen thought as Miller flounced out. He'd managed to alienate himself from the one person he was meant to buddy up with, and now Miller probably thought he was a plant from the Cartel or from whichever military officer was running this show. Callen lay down on his bunk and closed his eyes to review what little he had found out. He figured it was slightly more than Sam and Kensi, and he smiled to himself as he remembered he was still wearing a hidden mic. He wondered if Nate would be reviewing and de-briefing him after this case, as he would have a field day trying to work out if any of the revelations from his alias were actually drawn from Callen's own life experiences. That was for him to know and no one else to ever come close to finding out. Spinning lies was easier for him that telling the truth and always had been. And there had been plenty of occasions where the lines had blurred so much he could not remember what was true and what he had fabricated.

"Miller?"

Callen steadied his breathing as he heard a voice whisper his fellow prisoner's name. Knowing he was alone, he made a slight noise which could be interpreted as a 'yes' or as someone stirring in their sleep.

"You Miller?"

This time Callen slowly opened his eyes and rolled onto his side. The sight that greeted him did not fill him with pleasure. Stood in the open doorway of the cell were two extremely burly men, both in orange jump suits. The man on the left had taken a step into the cell leaving his friend to block the entrance – or exit as Callen saw it. Both men had standard issue buzz cuts, although the man blocking the door was sporting a baseball cap that was rather too small for his head. Callen smiled slightly at that thought before his attention turned quickly to the man who was now stood in front of him. He stood at least six foot three and was literally built like a refrigerator. Callen may be stocky but at only five foot ten, with bruised ribs, and the fact he had rolled onto his side with no back up; he was convinced the odds were not stacked in his favour. So as not to provoke the men, Callen pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his hands over his face and head, giving the impression he had just woken up.

As he slowly stood up, he said "What d'ya want?"

The taller man stared down at Callen, who met his gaze with his own steely blue eyed stare. "We're delivering a message from 'the boss' for you to keep your mouth shut."

"That's great, thanks. Tell the boss the message is received and understood. Much appreciate the personal touch, thanks for dropping b-."

Callen's drivel was rewarded with a swift punch to the ribs which saw him desperately gasp for breath. Doubled over in pain, he hoped the message would be a short one.

After a long minute during which Callen had remained doubled over with his hands on his knees, the refrigerator said, "Boss said you were the weak one." And as Callen raised his head a fist came flying into his face, and he found himself collapsed on the floor, with a bloody nose.

What he feared next would have been the logical boot into his midriff, and if Callen allowed that to happen, he was convinced he would end up with broken ribs and maybe a punctured lung. That kind of injury would see him out of action for weeks so he had to come up with a plan and fast. From his position on the floor he could see the boots of the orange suit blocking the door join the refrigerator in the cell.

"Looks like he's gotten the message," refrigerator said as he turned away for Callen to face the door-blocker. "We can pay another visit if he talks to the MPs again."

"Well I think it needs re-enforcing," and the door blocker took another pace forward as Callen drew up his legs and thrust with all his might against the back of the refrigerator's knees.

The unexpected attack meant he went down heavily and toppled towards the door blocker who failed to catch him, so he landed heavily on his knees. Callen used the time to spring to his feet, side-stepped the refrigerator and swung a powerful right hook into the door blocker. Callen quickly followed up with another forceful punch and the door blocker fell to the floor as Callen turned swiftly to kick the refrigerator, who was still on his knees, full in the face. The huge man clutched his hands to his now broken nose which was pouring with blood, and he stared at Callen with hatred and anger. As Callen paused slightly to regain his balance and control his own pain, he arms were suddenly pinned behind him as door blocker recovered from the earlier blows.

"Miller, you bastard. You're gonna pay for this," and refrigerator removed his bloody right hand from his face and slowly curled it into a tight fist that was literally shaking in anger as he raised it high into the air above Callen's face before reigning down the first blow, which caught Callen's left eye and caused him to slump heavily to his right. The man holding his arms tightened his grip and Callen forced his feet to keep gripping the floor so he would stay upright. He looked up at his attacker who again was raising a tightly curled fist towards his head. Callen hoped the mic was picking up this beating and that Nell and Eric had already alerted the prison guards; he couldn't afford to be spending time in hospital. Just as the fist was about to be released, they were interrupted by a voice from the doorway.

"What do you think you're doing?" and all three men moved their attention to a younger man at the cell entrance.

Refrigerator dropped his arm momentarily and said "Teaching Miller here a lesson. Now run along like good little marine, unless you fancy some?"

"But I'm Miller!" Miller did not hesitate as stepped into the cell.

"Nice try. Now get lost," he said as he shoved Miller away and turned his attention back to Callen who had seized the opportunity to formulate a plan that relied on excruciating pain and a hope that Miller had his back.

Using all his core strength he squeezed his biceps against his oppressor's arms and jerked his legs up and with all his power kicked his legs into refrigerator's chest. The man in front of him backed away in pain, gasping to catch his own breath as the man behind Callen suddenly released his arms causing Callen to fall to the floor. Within the space of these precious seconds, Miller had rushed further into the cell and was attacking the man who had held Callen. As Callen picked himself off the floor, the refrigerator launched himself at Callen who deftly dived to one side. If the 'fridge landed on him, that was game over.

Suddenly an almighty high pitched siren sounded and five guards rushed the cell, pulling the four fighting men apart. The guards quickly pulled the arms of each man behind their backs and secured them with handcuffs.

"What the hell is going on here?" A red faced Captain shouted. He marched up and invaded the personal space of every one of the cuffed men, all of whom remained silent and stared straight ahead.

"You," he spoke to the refrigerator. "Name?"

"Sir, Diggs Sir," The reply was barked and rather nasal as blood was still pouring from the nose which Callen had broken earlier.

"You," speaking to Miller this time.

"Sir, Miller sir"

"Next?" to the former door stopper.

"Sir Brown sir." The third conditioned reply came.

"And you," The Captain stood in front of Callen.

"Reed sir," Callen spoke in a bored voice and continued to stare just past the Captain, resisting the temptation to make eye contact and become even more insolent than he currently felt.

"You will address me in the correct manner prisoner," The Captain looked at Callen with disdain, instantly loathing everything he observed about the bloody and belligerent man in front of him.

Callen inhaled slowly, continued to stare straight ahead and barked the correct form of address back to the officer in front of him. Much though he would have loved to have replied with some sarcastic remark now was not the time or the place. He had the upmost respect for military personnel but constant discipline and control had never been for him.

"What happened here?" The Captain demanded from each of them, and was met with a wall of silence. "Diggs, Brown, this is not your cell. Why are you here?"

The two men shifted their feet slightly and it was Diggs who replied. "Sir, We were talking with these two earlier and they invited us back here for a quiet game of cards. Reed here was caught cheating and didn't like being found out, sir."

The Captain considered the response from Diggs. Diggs and Brown had been in the Brig for about eight months and both had exhibited exemplary behaviour. He cast a look at the two men who had arrived at Camp Pendleton less than six hours ago and had already been caught fighting. He had already formed an opinion of Reed. Based on his file and the evidence before him, he would do his best to ensure this man was kicked out of the Navy by the end of his sentence. Miller, he thought could go either way. His record suggested he had been swept along in the crowd, which probably meant that Reed would be a bad influence. Separate cells for these two, after a night in solitary for them all, he thought. He briefly wondered where the pack of cards was, before pushing the thought to the back of his mind.

"Sergeant, take Miller and Brown to solitary to calm them down for a while. Briggs and Reed need to go to the sick bay first." He turned back to the prisoners and continued. "In the five years I've been here there has never been a fight. Never! Diggs and Brown have never stepped a foot out of line before, not so much as a sneeze. But you two," he stabbed a finger into Miller and Callen's chests. "You two have been here less than five minutes. If this ever happens again, there will be serious repercussions. Understand?"

Miller and Callen responded to the senior officer in the correct fashion as they were separated, with Callen and Diggs headed towards the sick bay, while Miller and Brown were led to the single cells of solitary confinement.


	12. Time To Think

Time To Think

Half an hour later Callen had been patched up, with several stitches required to close the cut by his eyebrow. He'd managed to catch himself in the mirror and saw that his recent black eye was now starting to fade, however the new cut made his face look worse. His ribs were hurting more with the sudden burst of exertion required to ensure he didn't lose the brawl outright. And the pace at which the guards marched him down white-washed corridors did him no favours. Several prisoners stared as he passed them – his hands were again cuffed – and they went through several sets of locked gates before entering a separate block which contained cells which were clearly marked as solitary. The cuffs were removed and he was unceremoniously pushed into a single cell. Callen stumbled towards the bed, as the door slammed shut.

The darkness suddenly enveloped him and the silence was deafening. The time was now about 7pm, and he had no idea how long he would be kept here. He was hoping that with the 5am reveille he would be allowed out, although what the next day would bring, he was unsure. The Captain had seemed to take an instant dislike to him and if he'd been labelled a trouble maker, the likelihood was that he and Miller would be separated. He knew that they would soon be moved from a shared cell into a dormitory with eight other prisoners and the chance for private conversations would be practically non-existent. They would also soon be allocated work detail, probably tomorrow Callen thought, as if prisoners were kept busy they were less likely to cause trouble. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Deeks was scheduled to visit as his shady lawyer the following day, and with that visit, Callen hoped the team had made some progress. He reflected that he may have secured Miller's friendship – and hopefully trust – but so far there had been no breakthrough from his point of view. Callen ran his hands over his head. It was going to be a long night and he wondered how many languages he would have to practice before he eventually slept. He feared his night in solitary would bring back memories he had buried in unconscious many years ago. No longer did they cause him nightmares – for he rarely slept long enough to dream – however being held prisoner in a confined spaced with no company gave him too much time to think and feel. Right, he thought to himself, focusing on what he could control, Russian first...

After a long but uneventful night all four men were released from solitary. Judging by the appearance of each of them, it was not something they wished to repeat anytime soon. Diggs and Brown looked suitably ashamed of their actions and were led off first, past Callen and Miller who both glared at their attackers. They were led back to their cell to collect what little belongings they had with them and taken to a dormitory with ten bunks.

"This is your new home for the next few weeks." A fresh faced Corporal spoke as Miller and Callen chose two of the five spare beds. "After breakfast you will both be deployed as part of the unit working party that is repairing the facilities at Headquarters in Area 11. Report to me at 07:00 hours."

"Sir, yes sir," both men replied and saluted the Corporal.

All meals were served in the dining area and during breakfast Callen was able to secure the far end of a table for him and Miller, giving them a chance to talk privately.

"You Ok?" It was Miller who spoke first to Callen, presumably as he was concerned that he'd taken the punches with already had bruised ribs.

"Yeah, why?" Callen's response sounded harsher than he intended as he cradled a cup of steaming hot coffee.

"You had some weird look about you when they let you out of solitary, you're not claustrophobic are you?" said Miller, nonplussed by Callen's tone.

"Did I?" Callen was surprised and annoyed at himself for letting something like that slip. "No I'm not claustrophobic, I'm not scared of the dark either," he added with a slight grin. "Are you good? It was a long night. Too much time to think..."

"I'm fine, yeah it did give me time to think things through, straighten out my mind. I owe you an apology for thinking you were sent to get to me and a thank you for taking a beating for me. Why did you do that?"

Miller looked earnestly at Callen, and the NCIS agent was suddenly positive that he would get a breakthrough in the case during the day.

Callen shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his coffee. "They never gave me a chance to explain and just assumed I was you."

"What did they want?" Miller asked.

"To give you a warning to not talk to the MPs," Callen replied, choosing his words carefully.

"Ah. I don't think they will be getting to me in the brig again. The guards are going to be keeping a close eye on us as they think we started the fight. But I do need to talk to you. Can you stay close today?"

"Sure, I'm hoping for a visit from a friend this afternoon, a rather creative lawyer so he may be able to help. Maybe you can get him as your lawyer too?" Callen planted the seeds into Miller's mind.

"Hmm, we'll see. Mitch, you know back when we were being driven here, we both said we knew people who could get to Nicholls? Did you mean that just for Nicholls, or like a hit man for anyone?" Miller asked the question in a lowered voice as he glanced furtively around and leaned across the table to Callen.

"I know ways of getting to and taking care of almost everyone. Mainly thanks to my lawyer." Callen leaned towards Miller in response, keen for some kind of conspiracy to develop.

Miller nodded his head slowly. "You must have led some life before joining..."

"I did, the key thing was to keep in touch with those select few you might need in the future. Unfortunately for me someone found out and blackmailed me. You must have thought about this last night Cody, do you have any ideas who it could be?" Callen was keen for Miller to think for himself as there were certain dots he was already joining in his mind.

"Someone who has access to personnel files, so someone in the military. But it must go deeper than that as me and Tommy was asked to steal weapons too."

"Maybe they were trying to take it up a gear. I was never asked to do that." Callen said.

"By the sounds of it you kept disappearing...I reckon someone with access to classified military personnel records has a link to the Tijuana Cartel."

"How the hell did you work out which cartel is involved," Callen asked feigning surprise, knowing the answer would cement how involved Miller was in the crime.

"The MPs told me, but when I was a kid I knew the brother of the cartel leader and got caught up with them."

"So that's what they had on you." Callen was relieved Miller was no further involved than being blackmailed.

"You reckon–"

"On your feet now! You two have been talking for longer than two old women. You have five minutes to report to Corporal Smith. Move it!" A guard yelled, who had marched over to their table.

The two men quickly jumped to attention and responded with some "yes sirs," and left the dining area, their food untouched.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A minibus drove a small working party team of five to the Headquarters in Area 11. The work required was the general maintenance of a rather run down meeting room. Walls were scraped and washed down and Callen was grateful that his rib injuries were really no worse for yesterday's fight. He was surprised he was selected for this detail and figured it was the Captain who put his name forward, in the hope he would be in pain by early afternoon. The unit was supervised the entire time, and most of the work was completed in a disciplined silence. They broke for lunch around 11am and were escorted to a nearby chow hall. Again there was no opportunity for Callen and Miller to continue their conversation and it wasn't until 4pm when the exercise hour began, that they could be alone.

The exercise yard was a wide open expanse of concrete covered with painted lines to indicate the areas of basketball courts and five-aside soccer pitches. A steel fence enclosed the area, topped with barbed wire to prevent any potential escape attempts. A yellow sun shone brightly against the intensely blue California sky and in surroundings of grey breeze-block buildings, it seemed like a tiny piece of heaven to Callen.

Savouring the faux freedom the exercise yard provided, he turned to Miller. "I agree that someone's been accessing classified personnel files and passing them to the cartel."

"Yeah, and that someone can also get into social services files to find out who can be blackmailed." Miller replied.

Callen and Miller started to slowly stroll round the perimeter of the yard to avoid drawing the guard's attention to themselves.

"Do you think it was someone here that blackmailed you and Tommy?" Callen asked.

"No, it was probably someone from the cartel. The way they threatened us...it just felt like some hood, someone just higher than a street kid."

"When was the last time you or Tommy had contact with the cartel – before all this started."

"We must've been about eighteen, around the time we joined up. All we wanted was a fresh start and that meant pretending our past lives never happened." Miller was sauntering with his hands in his pockets, appearing more relaxed than he sounded.

"This isn't gonna be easy," said Callen, as he was interrupted by a guard shouting that his lawyer was here. Callen placed a friendly hand on Miller's arm. "I'll set the wheels in motion with my lawyer."

Miller muttered Ok and as Callen headed back to the main building, he jogged towards a small group of men playing basketball.


	13. Lawyer

Lawyer

Deeks was fully prepared for his fake client and he had been shown to an interview room by Sam, in his undercover guise as a Major with the Military Police. Sam had joined Kensi in the observation room to ensure that only they had the privilege of seeing and hearing the lawyer/client conversations. Deeks made himself as comfortable as possible at the table, bringing out a stack of files from an expensive looking brief case. Removing an equally expensive jacket, which he hung carefully on the back of his chair, he removed a pen and made a few notes. He was interrupted with the opening of the door, and a guard ushered Callen in to the room, before turning and exiting.

Callen nodded slightly at Deeks before sitting down at the table. He was unaware if the team had secured this room and so by remaining silent he would not compromise anyone and Deeks would have control – for the moment.

"It's alright," said Deeks as he stared at Callen, slightly taken aback at his battered appearance. "Kensi and Sam are in the observation room and Nell and Eric have taken care of the surveillance and microphones in here."

"So what's the latest?" Callen asked, getting straight to the point.

"What, no small talk? No chit chat? Surely you've missed us and you're dying to find out whether Hetty's gonna tear you to pieces for all this?" Deeks smiled as he waved a hand in the general direction of Callen's face.

Callen leaned back in his chair and smiled back at Deeks, shaking his head slightly. Yes, he had missed his team. His undercover aliases were usually intense or involved in intense situations, and he had quickly missed the light-hearted banter that kept him and the team sane.

"Go on then, humour me." Callen folded his arms, still smiling and waited for Deeks to launch in to some ridiculous tirade.

"Well, where do you want me to start? Nope, don't answer that, that it what is known as a rhetorical question, and I know exactly where to start. Sam is missing you like crazy. Seems that he can't threaten your ass anymore so mine is on the line, which I am so not worried about, but tell me I said that. Kensi is missing you because until you come back, then Sam may get my ass, which she thinks to just too cute to be gotten by anyone." Deeks paused and glanced in the direction of the observation room. "And Hetty is concerned that you might fly by the seat of your pants and come unstuck." Deeks tone changed and he spoke seriously, staring Callen in the eye. "Y'know she's protecting you with this DEA thing you have with Nicholls?"

Callen's smile faltered and he immediately thought that he didn't need protecting. Taking a few moments to think things through, he realised that Hetty would know the issues he had experienced during his employment with the various federal agencies. He knew Hetty wouldn't reveal anything about his past unless it was vital, and even then she would most likely be brief. He sighed and maintained Deeks' stare.

"It's fine now, he's out of the picture so we can all move on."

"Good, now back to lawyer mode." It was Deeks' turn to shake his head now, albeit in a rather exaggerated manner. "You have been a naughty boy Reed, I must say that having reviewed the evidence, you'll probably be in line for an eighteen month sentence and a dishonourable discharge." He stopped and a broad grin suddenly spread over his face. "But now you have me as a lawyer, and I reckon I can halve that at least!"

"Yeah, that's great Deeks, but that's not what we're here for." Callen reminded him, keen to get down to business. Small talk was not his thing.

"Ah, yes. The case. Yesterday's fight broke your mic, but not before Nell and Eric called the guards." Deeks paused and decided not to digress again by asking how Callen was. "From what we heard of the blackmail and threats, we looked into everyone who has access to marine personnel records and social service records, or had connections to other people within social services. We've come up with a list of two names."

Deeks leafed through several pages in his files and pulled out the photos and summaries of the two.

"Eric went through financial statements and large sums of money have been placed into the accounts of these two over the past year. It's clear they're working together."

Callen looked at the photos. One man in his late fifties, slightly receding blond hair, blue eyes and a round face. The woman was in her late forties, also with blond hair that just touched her shoulders.

"They together?" he asked.

"Brother and sister. Nell found that the brother, James Jones has a teenage son who has fallen in with the cartel. The belief is that they're using the son to ensure James and his sister play ball. Sandy Jones works here at Camp Pendleton. She never married, no kids and has worked here for twenty years."

"So James works for Social Services," Callen filled in the missing link.

"Indeed he does, he's worked for them since leaving school. Started as a post boy, became a social worker, case manager and now heads up the Social Services team in San Diego. Just in the right position to connect the dots between the bad boy kids who turned into honourable marines."

"Has he always worked San Diego?" Callen asked as he studied the photo.

"No, he's been in San Diego for the last five years, spent five years up in Sacramento trouble shooting their offices, before that he was in LA."

"So have you been able to trace the money transfers?

"Not yet, Eric's been um, enjoying the challenge..." Deeks left the sentence hanging.

"Ah," Callen understood. Not a straightforward trace, meaning that the people involved had access to sophisticated equipment and were intelligent enough to realise how easy it could be to trace electronic transfers of all kinds. "Seems to me that the cartel have really upped their game. How plausible is that?" He was keen to test Deeks.

Deeks leaned forward, ready to reveal his thoughts. "I think there is someone else at play. Jones and Jones are involved 'coz of the boy, the cartel is providing the muscle, drugs and threats. The Tijuana cartel are just re-establishing themselves and I think there is someone else out there, pulling on everyone's strings, making them all dance to his tune." Deeks illustrated by pretending to pull puppet strings.

"I agree, Eric needs to trace that money. Miller doesn't know anything but he's petrified that the cartel are gonna kill him. They'd already paid some prisoners to warn him off. I don't think they'll try again soon but we need to move fast before word gets back to the Jones's and they work out Reed is not on their list."

"Copy that," Deeks agreed. "Instructions are for you to sit tight and continue to press Miller. Keep an ear to the ground. And Sam says keep out of trouble of he'll knock you into next week."

With that Deeks stood up and Sam entered the room, closing the door behind him.

"You good?" he asked Callen, wasting his breath as Callen would most likely swear he was fine on his deathbed.

"Yeah Sam, getting better every day." Callen replied, "Especially now I've seen your sunny face."

Deeks smiled. "Y'see, that's what I've missed. If I said that to Sam, he would threaten all kinds of hurt."

"I normally threaten all kinds of hurt to G." Sam replied with a wry grin as he glanced at the two men. "You two scare me. You're more alike than I realised. Maybe next case you two can partner up and I can get some peace with Kensi."

"Thanks, Sam" Callen said with his own cocky grin. "I missed you too. But hey, I found that the guards here are pretty good at saving my ass, so maybe I can live without you."

"Hhmm, here's your new mic. Let's see if you can keep this one in working order," was the only response Sam deigned to give as he escorted Deeks out of the room. Kensi entered and ushered Callen out, leading him back to the exercise yard, where she advised him that Deeks was due to return the following day.


	14. Bingo

_Edited to correct a few very minor errors found by SilverSentinal21 - they did need to be made :)_

* * *

Bingo

Nell and Eric had been busy working on their individual assignments as received from Hetty. Eric was busy tracing the money transfers, getting more and more frustrated as he followed the trail across three different continents and thirteen different countries. Hetty had asked Nell for a quiet word, and Nell was now working on investigating a potential threat, which Hetty had a hunch may turn into a much needed lead.

The operations centre was hushed as both focussed on their respective tasks. Nell was the first to experience success and shouted "Bingo" as she pushed her chair away from her desk and ran down to Hetty's office. Eric swung round in his chair and glanced woefully at the open door, before swivelling back to his screen, pushing his glasses up his nose and resolved to find his man or woman within the next ten minutes.

Hetty looked up to see Nell approaching her desk with a smug smile on her face, her shoulders swinging slightly which confirmed her assessment that a break-through had finally been reached.

"Miss Jones, I presume you have good news?" She asked.

"Very good news," she responded. "I've been tracking the Jones' to see whose records they are researching and they're digging into Callen's alias. But the trigger was an email which I'll get Eric to trace when I go back to ops."

"And what did this email say, has Mr Callen been compromised?" Hetty said.

"It said to look back to the birth, schooling and childhood records of Mitchell Reed and look for any anomalies across all records and institutions. His backstopping is thorough but with the level of scrutiny it'll be exposed to, I'm concerned it might not stand up."

"Make sure it is water-tight, Miss Jones. And how about the other task?"

"A few discrepancies in financial records but nothing concrete yet, but I'll keep digging." Nell inclined her head slightly towards Hetty and smartly turned to head back to ops.

Another hour passed as Nell and Eric worked on ensuring there were no gaps or inconsistencies in Callen's alias, before continuing to trace the money transfers and emails. This time Eric had more success and had narrowed down the source to a rich suburb of Tijuana, Mexico. Before he could celebrate his electronic victory over the villains, Nell's computer pinged as another email was received by James Jones.

"Uh oh," Nell looked nervously at Eric.

"What is it?" He asked, as he wheeled himself towards Nell's desk.

"I think Callen's been made, James Jones has just received another email, this time requesting him to look in to the social services records for a G. Callen." Nell said.

"Not necessarily. Maybe whoever is running the operation from Tijuana just has both names." Although Eric instinctively erred on the side of caution, he was naturally an optimist.

"Oh, that was quick," Nell commented as her computer pinged again as James responded to the anonymous email request. "Hmm, it seems he can't access Callen's records as they're sealed. But we'd better get Hetty up here; James may have other contacts with higher access. Once they see Callen's pictures against his alias, the game's over."

"Trouble, Miss Jones?" said a low, authoritative voice from besides her left ear.

Nell straightened up in her seat and twisted towards Hetty. "Our anonymous email sender has not only asked James Jones to look into the background of Mitchell Reed, but also to look into a G. Callen. But he's just replied that Callen's social services file is sealed."

"I see, Mr Beale have you traced the source of the email?" Hetty turned to Eric.

"Both the money transfers and the emails originate from Tijuana. I can only narrow it down to a four block radius in Playas de Tijuana..." Eric fed back to Hetty.

"Find out who lives in that four block radius. I want every individual scrutinised for even the most tenuous connection to the Tijuana Cartel and the Jones' siblings." Hetty had given Eric his instructions, and now directed her attention to Nell.

"Miss Jones, make sure James does not unseal Mr Callen's records. We do not yet know to whom he has been passing information."

"We do know that James is acquainted with people in high places that could have Callen's file unsealed; police chiefs, high court judges, and maybe even through his sister's military contacts."

"Then you had better work quickly," Hetty said seriously as she slowly walked out of the room.

"Woah, this could get heavy," Eric muttered as he tapped away at his keyboard to bring up a long list of residents in Playas de Tijuana. "And this list will take at least an hour to go through."

"Hmmm, maybe not," Nell said as she peered over Eric's shoulder. With a delicate finger she pointed at a name on the screen in front of them. "Bingo!"

"Again?" Eric cocked his head to one side.

"Yes, Jessica Jackson is the missing link." Nell allowed herself a smug smile as she dialled down to Hetty, requesting her presence again.

Several minutes Hetty re-appeared. "This had better be good, Miss Jones."

"Oh it is Hetty, I've found the missing link!"

"And which missing link would this be?" Hetty needed Nell to get straight to the point.

"Jessica Jackson is one of the names Eric has pulled on his search of the four block radius of Playas de Tijuana. Jessica Jackson is forty five years old, and American citizen, mother of two, and a part time administrator for the local DEA office." Nell stopped to look around triumphantly. "And, she is the girlfriend of one Senior Agent Nicholls."

"Ah," Hetty leaned back against the centre table. "I need both of you to search through all of Nicholls and Jackson's financial and electronic records, whatever it takes to link them to each other, to the cartel and to the Jones'. Hell, even hack into the DEA mainframe. I'll alert the others, and hope they can get word to Mr Callen to abort the operation. I think Mr Callen was compromised before he even started this mission,"

Hetty shook her head sadly at the mess the mission had so quickly become and stared at the picture of Callen, Nicholls, the Jones' and Jackson on the large screen She hoped to God they could resolve this case without anymore unforeseen situations arising.

* * *

_The Brig, Camp Pendleton_

The evening followed without incident. Callen updated Miller on his conversations with his lawyer and advised that he expected some speedy answers to their questions. Both men got acquainted with their dorm mates, all of whom were a friendly bunch and mainly serving time for petty offences such as unauthorised absences, with a few failures to follow orders. Light hearted banter and ribbing took place as they found each other's company easy, and tales of missions and women were regaled, the dirtier the mission and the women, the more raucous the laughter that followed. All ten men in the room agreed that for conversations such as these, they should at least be allowed a beer or two.

The lights went out at ten o'clock sharp, and Callen stared up at the ceiling in the dark, reflecting on all he had learnt over the past few days. James Jones' son was involved in the Tijuana Cartel and was being used to blackmail Sandy Jones, who worked with staff records at Camp Pendleton, to analyse which Marines had signed up with a dubious past. She then passed the names onto her brother James, who utilised his high level access to Social Services records to vet the potential marines. Cody Miller and Tommy Edwards had been unlucky enough to have met the criteria and their names had been passed to the cartel. They had been threatened with physical violence outside the Camp and blackmailed into dealing drugs and stealing weapons. This had been made especially easy due to their previous connections to the very same cartel. So far though, with the exception of the Jones siblings, no other names had arisen. The cartel thugs would be of little consequence; the big prize would be the name Nell and Eric would find, the man responsible for transferring the money to the Jones'. Callen could only hope that this would be the same man that was behind the whole operation.

He thought about the photo Deeks had shown him of James Jones,and trawled through his memory to see if he had ever encountered him as a social worker as a teenager. He drew a blank, which was not surprising considering he was moved across America as he grew in years. Callen vaguely recollected the first few orphanages and homes on the East coast, before he was uprooted and planted in various different states until he ended up on the West coast. He smiled as he recalled Hetty's involvement in these moves – albeit unknown to him until a few years ago. Hetty may not have been able to prevent some of the 'situations' he had found himself in, but she had certainly ensured that he had been lost in the system. His smile faltered as he wondered why he had his grandfather's surname, Callen. Did this mean that his mother never married, or that his father's name was more distinctive or dangerous? But then why would he have arrived in America as a small child with a surname that the Comescu's would be looking for? He had so many questions and so few answers in all his forty three years. He sighed as his gaze lingered on the outline of Miller in his bunk. Miller had a family and he'd been no better off. Was knowing really any better than not knowing? Surely what mattered was the here and now.

He'd already come to terms with recent revelations about his family and as he thought about the way he'd treated Hetty, he felt ashamed. Since he'd known her, it was paramount she'd only ever had his best interests at heart. Callen closed his eyes and resolved to listen to Hetty, rather than jump to any more conclusions about her actions concerning his childhood. Life was too short...

Callen awoke with a start and sat bolt upright, blinking hard and breathing heavily as he caught sight of a shadow in his peripheral vision. He turned his head and could see nothing but the outlines of bunks and sleeping men. He rubbed his eyes and controlled his breathing, forcing his heartbeat to slow down. There was no-one there, and he was sure there never had been, just his paranoia surfacing. Callen lay back down and wondered how the hell he was going to go back to sleep. He couldn't practice languages, have a beer, play chess against himself or tinker with the electrics of any device. It wasn't the same as counting sheep but it concentrated his mind and relaxed him. He lay back down and rolled onto his side, inhaling slightly as he knocked his still sore ribs, and allowed his mind to wander over the case.

Sandy Jones was the link to how potential marines were found, her brother James revealed their childhood secrets and handed them off to whom, ready for blackmail? Was it directly to the Tijuana Cartel? Callen thought this was unlikely as they were still re-establishing themselves, predominantly with violence. He doubted they had already found and forged contacts within the Marines and Social Services. So there had to be a third party involved, someone had pulled this all together; someone with the know-how and power who was already in the military, most likely at Camp Pendleton. Callen racked his brains, recalling all the personnel that he had encountered so far, or the names he had heard mentioned. No one stood out as a likely candidate. He parked that avenue of investigation, to be re-visited during his next meeting with his team.

If the operation was not being run by someone in the Camp, then it must be someone with influence in the world of drugs, or connected to that world. That could mean judges, chiefs of police around the area or even down in Tijuana, Callen thought, or even in the DEA office…

Callen again sat bolt upright again and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Of course, it had to be Nicholls. That would explain why he reacted to Callen in the manner he had. Nicholls had means and opportunity. As for motive…a wry smile briefly passed Callen's lips. With Nicholls it was all about the money. Callen should have realised, after all it was a step up from what he witnessed Nicholls do twenty odd years ago, albeit a huge step. There was no way to alert the rest of his team until breakfast time at the earliest, so Callen settled back down to hone plans for the annihilation of Senior Agent Steve Nicholls of the Drug Enforcement Agency and hoped it wouldn't also bring about his own downfall.


	15. Sprung

Sprung

Breakfast time saw Callen and Miller at a table with their new dorm mates, providing Callen with no opportunity to apprise Miller of his suspicions about Nicholls. He couldn't reveal any information that Deeks had given him the previous day, however he could verbalise his thoughts on Nicholls, which he hoped would be quickly picked up by his team or through the Ops centre, via his mic. It might give his team the chance to carry out some investigations into Nicholls and the analysis of his finances prior to his meet with Deeks, Sam and Kensi later that afternoon.

Through snatched conversations post breakfast and pre work detail, Callen sold his suspicions to Miller. The fact that Nicholls had abused his position with Callen's undercover alias and had connections to drugs and the cartels, helped plant the thought in Miller's mind that Nicholls was a possible suspect. Unfortunately, neither Callen's alias nor Miller could provide the military or social services links. Callen reassured Miller that when he next saw his lawyer, he would point him in the right direction, although in actuality, they would be finalising plans to catch Nicholls with hard evidence or a confession.

The morning passed painfully slowly. The work party were again in the same building, this time over two rooms; stripping paint, ripping up carpets, plugging holes, plastering. Callen let his mind wander and was called out several times for being slow and lazy with his work. Lunchtime came and went and shortly after 3pm the prisoners were returned to the brig, where Callen was escorted to the interview room again.

This time, his full team were present and once the door was closed the atmosphere immediately shifted to one of intense relief.

"So what have you found out about Nicholls," Callen asked before he had even sat down.

"Nell and Eric made the connection early yesterday evening after they traced the money transfers to his girlfriend's house in Tijuana," Kensi answered.

"They also traced emails which were sent to James Jones telling him to look for any anomalies in the records of Mitchell Reed, and to find everything about you." Sam looked pointedly at Callen.

"And the emails were also sent from his girlfriend's house?" Callen enquired.

"Yep, Eric and Nell have checked that you're thoroughly backstopped as Reed," Sam advised him. "And so far he hasn't been able to access any records to do with you, G." Sam studied Callen's reaction carefully.

"He won't," Callen replied without showing a shred of concern. "My records require highly classified clearance which they'll never get."

His team attempted to glance discretely at him, briefly wondering what would be revealed if anyone ever successfully accessed his files. Callen chose to ignore the looks, and instead concentrated on reading the files which Kensi had handed him when he entered the room.

"So, how did you reach the same on conclusion that Nicholls is our guy?" Deeks asked curiously.

"Couldn't sleep so I reviewed the case from each angle. Nicholls was the logical suspect; he's in Tijuana, has cartel and military connections," Callen paused and looked up at his team. "And he's done it before on a much smaller scale."

"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" Kensi asked, placing her hands on her hips. "This could have saved us days worth of work."

"Not to mention the cost of an undercover operation," added Sam, clearly annoyed that Callen had yet again chosen to exclude his team.

"But Nell and Eric confirmed that his record is so clean I'm surprised he doesn't squeak when he walks." Deeks added in Callen's defence, "What do you have on him?"

The team sat round the table, with Callen now the focus of attention. From the exterior, he remained calm, however inside his mind was churning with how much information he needed to give away. Someone had once told him that honesty was the best policy, however he'd always found that stretching the truth, straight out lies and bending the rules served him just as well. Callen sighed deeply and started talking.

"Back when I was a rookie DEA officer with Nicholls, we were pretty tight. We'd roomed and trained together at Quantico and were both posted to Tijuana at the same time." Callen paused as he allowed his colleagues a rare insight into his past. "It was my first job and I was warned I had to be a team player or I was out, so I played the part. Nicholls helped me be less..."

"Serious?" asked Deeks with a smile.

"Intense?" guessed Kensi.

"Intimidating, cold?" Sam added his own interpretation.

"Thanks for the character assassination guys," Callen said with a smile, relieved he was on the receiving end of their banter rather than their accusations.

"Go on," said Sam, unsure whether he meant it as an order or as encouragement. Somehow he couldn't imagine Callen lightening up much in his youth.

"About eighteen months in to the job we were getting great results. We both worked the same way and busted some big gangs," Callen continued as Sam gave Callen a knowing smile. "After one heist we went out to celebrate. A few bottles of Tequila later and Nicholls is showing me cartel money he'd siphoned off. Because of my background, and the fact we bent the rules a bit, he expected me to partner him in future activities. I refused, we fought, I knocked Nicholls out, and took photos as evidence. Next day I told him to hand back the money as part of our next haul and I'd forget it, or

I'd make sure everyone knew what he'd done."

"So he handed the money back, right?" asked Kensi.

"No," Callen said slowly as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms protectively. "He made sure I kept quiet and edged me out of the DEA."

"How?" Deeks questioned.

"In a moment of Tequila induced weakness I revealed something that he threatened to use against me. Sort of re-enforced my belief that I'm better off working alone."

The room fell silent as Callen's team digested the information that their principled leader was compromised early in his career. And it was apparent from what they had witnessed earlier in the week, that neither man had forgotten this.

"So, why are we only hearing about this now?" Sam asked

"It was only a few thousand dollars he stole." Callen answered. "And what he had over me was more than I had on him. I thought everything last week was all about us and our past. It just didn't click that he could have escalated his activities to such a sophisticated level."

"What did Nicholls have on you?" Deeks asked curiously, doubting that Callen would ever let someone free with this type of information for so long.

"Not relevant Deeks," Callen shot him a look, causing Deeks to hold up his hands in an apology.

"Are you sure G?" Sam interrupted gently as he pressed Deeks' point home. Callen may not want to divulge too much, but there might still be a risk to the case, or even worse, to Callen personally. "It's been eating you up for days now. Does he still have that hold on you?"

Callen sighed heavily. "I guess he could still try..." Callen stopped and thought about recent events, and who his friends and family really were. "But Hetty would never let it get that far."

There, Callen thought. He had done a fair amount of soul searching during his recent incarceration and had finally arrived at the conclusion that he did trust Hetty. She may have her own peculiar reasons as to why she hid precious secrets from him, but the bottom line was that he had to trust Hetty. In fact he was almost convinced that she knew all about Nicholls and Callen's secrets.

"So what else do you have on him?" Sam challenged Callen. "I'd have thought you'd have had something more substantial over him."

"That's it Sam story time is over," Callen responded, shaking his head, effectively ending the brief insight to Callen's early career. He changed the conversation quickly before anyone else could probe further. "What we need now is a plan on catching Nicholls. Do Eric and Nell have hard evidence?"

"The emails and money transfers were traced back to a Jessica Jackson, who is Nicholls's girlfriend. She has no links to the cartel or the military, and she's a single mother of two and lives on her own. So we can arrest and have enough to charge her, but we both know that Nicholls is behind this but we just can't officially connect him yet." Sam said.

"So we either need to bring Nicholls in and get a confession or catch him in the act." Kensi thought out loud.

"Or find the hard evidence." Deeks added. "Can we search his house, access his laptop? We could lay the pressure on Jessica Jackson, she may break and then she can lead him to us?"

"I don't think we're going to catch him in the act," considered Callen. "And I doubt Nicholls will confess. He wouldn't boast about it in an argument with me as he'd figure I'd be wired. I agree with Deeks, the girlfriend is the best starting point."

"Starting point?" Kensi asked, "You don't think it'll work?"

"Nell and Eric need to find the connection between Nicholls and the cartel outside of his capacity as DEA agent, and he must be linked to the Jones's. We also need to get back to Tijuana and search his house."

"Ah see, another idea of mine," Deeks gave an enthusiastic nod of appreciation in Callen's direction, causing the team to smile as the camaraderie once again asserted itself.

"His girlfriend crosses the border to San Diego every two weeks to take her kids to see their father," Kensi advised the team. "She'd due tomorrow so we can pick her up and take her to the boat shed."

"Have you checked the father out?" Callen said.

"Yeah, he's clean." Sam replied. "If you and Deeks pick up the girlfriend, me and Callen will head down to Tijuana to Nicholls house."

"Are you springing me out of jail?" Callen asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh yeah G," Sam retorted with a wide smile. "Your get out of jail card just turned up."

"But what about Nicholls?" said Deeks. "Can we make sure he's outta town when you guys search his home?"

"We'll get Hetty on the case," suggested Callen as he moved his chair back and stood up. "So am I out of here today?"

"Guess so," said Sam. "Are you going to escape, become a medical emergency or get transferred?"

"I think the last is the safest bet, don't you?"

"And here was I thinking you were enjoying the opportunity to be a jerk and cause trouble and chaos as Reed." Sam grinned at Callen, although he figured the re-awakened grudge with Nicholls had seriously affected the start of the mission. He was glad to have Callen back where he could keep an eye on him.

"Playtime is over, Sam." Callen returned the smile. "We got bad guys to catch."


	16. Tijuana

Tijuana

With Mitchell Reed suddenly transferred and Callen free, he and Sam headed down to Tijuana whilst Kensi and Deeks prepared to pick up and interrogate Nicholls' girlfriend, Jessica Jackson. It was a lengthy drive from Los Angeles as Friday traffic steadily built up. Locals were finishing work early to prepare for the sunny weekend. The conversation between the two of them had remained light, with Callen receiving the brunt of the banter, which he figured he deserved – for the time being at least. He knew that he'd been a pain at times during his spell undercover, and believed that Sam was still smarting slightly from his controlled revelations about Nicholls and their past.

His cell phone rang and Callen glanced at the screen. The caller was Hetty, and Callen advised Sam of this before he answered.

"Hetty," Callen said as he placed his cell on loud speaker.

"Mr Callen," Hetty replied. "Is it always necessary to announce to your partner who is calling you prior to answering your cell phone?"

Callen quickly turned to Sam and raised his hands in a gesture of 'how the hell did she know that'. Sam shook his head and concentrated on driving.

"I like to make sure Sam doesn't feel left out," Callen said. "You know how jealous he gets."

"Indeed, I understand your point," Hetty agreed with Callen, causing Sam to almost hit the car in front as he lost concentration. "Now I have some good news about Senior Agent Nicholls."

"Eric and Nell found evidence?" Callen asked.

"No, and neither has Miss Jackson been picked up yet. However Agent Nicholls has taken a lead on an operation taking place in Mexico's Palm Valley, so you will not be interrupted when you search his house."

"That's great, thanks for sorting that out."

"My pleasure Mr Callen," said Hetty as she terminated the call.

"Sam, have you ever thought of sweeping your car for bugs?" Callen said quite seriously before his cell phone rang again. The agents both looked at each other before Callen glanced at the screen.

"It's Kensi," he said with a sense of relief.

"See, Hetty was right." Sam glanced at Callen with a huge grin on his face. "You do announce who it is before answering..."

Callen raised his eyebrows in disagreement before answering. "Hey Kens, what's up?"

"Thought we'd let you know that we're just leaving to pick up Jessica Jackson. Nell has found some large deposits of money to an off-shore bank account, and she's recently enrolled her children into private schools, and bought a large beach house in Oceanside"

"Which is on the doorstep of Camp Pendleton," Sam interrupted before Callen could say a word.

"Indeed, so it would seem she's been well rewarded for sending the emails."

"Good work guys," added Callen. "We're about an hour and forty out from Nicholls' house and then we'll check out Jackson's Tijuana house."

Callen terminated the call and the traffic slowly cleared to allow the two a clear run through to Mexico without any further interruptions from the team.

Just over an hour and a half later, they pulled into a modest suburban road and parked opposite Nicholls house. The houses were nicely spread apart with very few cars in the spacious driveways. Callen and Sam got out and approached the front door. Although they were not expecting anyone to be home, Callen still rang the doorbell and the two of them waited for an anxious few moments in case the door was opened. When no one came Sam peeked through the main windows and then at the neighbours houses before giving Callen the nod. Callen pulled out his pick lock set and deftly unlocked the door. The two agents quickly and quietly entered, pulling the front door shut behind them.

The interior was just as plain and modest as the exterior. The rooms off the hallway were light and airy. The living room contained a large leather sofa, a large wall-mounted flat screen TV and an equally large DVD and Blu-Ray collection. Several empty bottles lay on the coffee table.

"This is clearly lacking a woman's touch," Sam commented as he scanned the films on the bookcase and surveyed the high-end electronic equipment.

"You'd have flowers and pot pourri everywhere then?" Callen asked seriously.

"You know what I mean, G." Sam refused to be drawn by Callen's taunts. "I bet his fridge is only slightly better stocked than yours."

"Ha, let's see then." Callen moved to the kitchen followed by Sam, glad they hadn't actually bet on the outcome as the remains of the previous night's Chinese takeaway was left all over the top.

Sam opened the fridge door to reveal a case of beer, left over pizza and a grapefruit.

"See, I was right," Sam smiled to Callen who just shrugged his shoulders. "I can see why you two originally hit it off."

Callen ignored Sam and moved the conversation back to the job in hand. "Look for a laptop and any paperwork connecting him to the cartel, Jackson's payments and anything to link him to the Jones's, Social Services, Camp Pendleton, any classified files."

"On it," Sam said and moved off to the study.

Within five minutes, Sam and Callen were pouring over a laptop and swearing as it was password protected. Callen took control and tried a couple of words but with no luck. He sent Sam back to search for paperwork whilst he sat back and thought of likely passwords. If Nicholls was the consummate professional, then the password would be a genuine mixture of random letters and numbers. But Callen suspected that Nicholls would be reliant on remembering something safe and easy. He trawled through his own memories of Nicholls. Pet names were out, and there were never any steady girlfriends. Callen tried a few combinations of Jessica Jackson's name and birth date without success. Old case names could work, so Callen tapped in their first DEA case name. The computer beeped its dislike. Next Callen tried 'Juaraz94', the case which Nicholls had admitted to Callen that he'd stolen a small amount of drug money. This time, it was a success.

Callen quickly scanned the folders and files, clicking on a few to check the contents, and smiled triumphantly before copying the contents to a memory stick. Across the room, Sam was rifling through paperwork with little success. Letters and bank statements all related to his employment and the only piece of paper which hinted at a possible stashed fortune was a quote for a three month holiday to an exclusive resort in the Bahamas. The other rooms were searched, but no further evidence was found.

"There's nothing here apart from the laptop." Sam was frustrated.

"Yeah but the files on the laptop will prove his involvement. He's got files on marines, their social services files and criminal records. I've copied them but we need Hetty to organise a warrant to seize the laptop. This has to be water-tight."

"So does he have any files on you?" Sam asked as they walked to the front door.

"I've never served and he would never be able to get hold of my files. What are you trying to say?" Callen stopped Sam as they reached the front door.

Sam placed his hand on Callen's arm and said softly, "G, I'm trying to ask if he could have anything that could jeopardise your career, something from your past?"

Callen took a deep breath, "Not that I could see, but I wasn't looking..."

Callen opened the front door and the pair walked back to the Challenger. Once in the car they called Hetty to request she reached out to her contacts so Nicholls' laptop could be legally seized and analysed for the damning evidence Callen already had on the memory stick. With the search completed, Sam and Callen drove several miles further to Jessica Jackson's house, where they repeated the process.

Jessica's house was again a modest home, however this one was much more chaotic with plenty of toys and children's gadgets piled in corners.

"Now this is more like a home," Sam commented as he looked at the familiar domestic chaos that children created.

"Way too much clutter," Callen replied. "Looks like these kids are spoilt; way too many toys."

"Hmm, don't think they have any more than mine, my house is just more organised and tidy."

"Well you search this room then, I'll take the rest of the house."

Sam grunted as he attempted a systematic search of the living room, whilst Callen started in the kitchen. The family's kitchen was the exact opposite of Nicholls. There were no left over takeaway containers; the dishes had been left to dry in the rack, cereal boxes were neatly lined up and the cupboards were full of a mixture of canned food, crisps and healthy snacks. The fridge also fared much better. With the exception of a bottle of wine, the fridge was half full with fresh meat, vegetables and fruit. Jessica Jackson was a single mum who seemed to be raising her two children to be healthy at least. Pictures and magnets covered the fridge/freezer door; one of them a family shot that included Nicholls.

Callen moved to the bedrooms. The master bedroom was neat and tidy. Keepsake boxes were stacked on the top shelves of the walk-in wardrobe and Callen rooted through family and baby photos, letters from former lovers and newspaper clippings relating to personal events. He replaced everything carefully and went into the children's bedrooms. He almost closed the door as soon as he'd opened it, such was the mess. Action figures, Lego, trains, cars and trucks were strewn everywhere. Callen shook his head, wondering how any child could play with so many toys and gingerly trod through the toys to the beds. He lifted mattresses and only found children's books. He was just about to check the bookshelves when he heard Sam calling him back to the living room.

"G, I think we've hit the jackpot," said Sam as he held a handful of papers and pointed to a laptop. "Not even password protected. The emails sent to James Jones are here and this is DEA confidential paperwork confirming details of the Tijuana cartel."

"Not sure I'm buying all this Sam," Callen pointed to the messy living room and he spoke slowly as he vocalised his thoughts. "Sure she sent the emails asking for certain people to be looked into, but the confidential paperwork? It's only the kid's stuff which is a mess. Everything else here is organised, methodical, tidy, filed. It wouldn't surprise me if those papers have been planted. Nicholls is one slippery bastard, and he must've known the emails would eventually be traced here."

"Well in that case he must know we'd be looking for all connections to him." Sam pondered.

"And he'd realise that if he was sent away on an operation, odds are high that someone will be searching his house." Callen thought out aloud.

"So he'd clear out all evidence." Sam turned to Callen. "How did you know his password?"

"It was the case name and year we were together and he stole the money. I don't think anyone else would have known that but the two of us, and me being here wouldn't have been part of his plans."

They were interrupted by Callen's cell phone ringing, and Nell confirmed they had been granted authority to seize Nicholls' laptop. Kensi and Deeks had interviewed his girlfriend who had quickly blamed Nicholls for everything, but the laptop would give them the hard evidence to arrest and charge Nicholls. A conviction should be a given, but if he confessed in the interview it would be the icing on the cake.

The agents returned to Nicholls' house and this time announced themselves as Federal Agents as they entered with guns drawn and badges on display. The house was still empty and they headed to the living room and scooped up the laptop from where they had originally found it. As they turned to leave there was a noise from the rear of the house. Callen put the laptop down and motioned to Sam to investigate. As a precaution he again checked each room but as he ventured to the end of the hallway, he heard the front door click shut and he spun round, gun raised, and came face to face with Nicholls who had a gun pointed at him.

"The game's up Nicholls," Callen said authoritatively. "Put the gun down slowly and place your hands on your head."

"I don't think so G. If I go down, you go down with me. Don't you forget that." Nicholls had a manic look in his eyes that made Callen very wary.

"You can do what you like but I'm pretty sure I'll still have a job after all this." Callen held his gun steady. "You'll be the one in jail."

"Are you sure about that? I know your lie and I can expose you. _And_ you were an accomplice after the fact all those years ago." Nicholls smiled hoping his confidence would cause Callen to waiver.

"You can't burn me now. It'll never happen." Callen stressed the last words. "I'm protected by my friends and family."

"You have no family G and I'm surprised you have any friends, you don't exactly let people get close to you." Nicholls was going for the antagonistic approach now.

"Put the gun down now!" Callen ordered.

"Do as he says Nicholls," Sam had circled the house and entered through the front door. He now stood behind Nicholls, his gun trained on him.

"I can't, they'll get to me in jail." Nicholls spoke with calm determination as he tried to remain in control.

"If you give yourself up and help us, we'll make sure you're safe." Callen attempted to reassure Nicholls, although they all knew that his safety from the cartel could not be guaranteed.

Nicholls still had his gun trained on Callen, ignoring the threat of Sam from behind, who was quietly moving towards him. As Nicholls realised his mistake, he turned his gun in Sam's direction but was too late. Sam twisted his arm sharply, causing Nicholls to lose his grip and his gun clattered harmlessly to the ground. Nicholls tried to punch Sam with his weaker left arm and again failed as Callen charged towards him and all three men collapsed in the hallway on top of each other. Within seconds Callen had Nicholls' arms twisted behind his back and flexi-cuffs were tightened around his wrists. As Callen's knee dug deep into Nicholls' back, the captured man struggled in vain, shouting and threatening that Callen would live to regret his actions.


	17. The Boatshed

The Boatshed

Nicholls sat on his own in the interrogation room while the NCIS agents watched him on the large screen TV in the main room. Callen had wanted to lead the interview despite knowing it was a bad idea and the rest of the team had breathed an inward sigh of relief as Callen had been quickly over-ruled by Hetty, who was on her way to the boatshed. So far Nicholls had remained surprisingly silent. From his earlier rant, both Sam and Callen had expected Nicholls to reveal chapter and verse about his hatred of Callen and the secrets he apparently held.

"Ah," said Hetty as she entered the room and surveyed the team. "And how is Agent Nicholls fairing?"

"He's not uttered a word since he'd been here," Sam replied.

"No," Deeks added. "He's waiting for something, for someone..."

The team glanced at Callen, who continued to stare at Nicholls on the screen.

Callen turned abruptly to Hetty, "You've gotta let me interview him," he stated plainly.

"But that could do more harm than good." Hetty attempted to reason with her lead agent. "We need to secure a confession and cartel information, not provide a forum for the two of you to incriminate each other in God knows what."

"Let me go in with Sam. He can take the lead. You can watch from out here." Callen pleaded with Hetty to allow him to continue being involved in the case. He was loathe to stay on the sidelines instead of seeing the operation through to its conclusion.

"Oh thank you Mr Callen," Hetty responded with a slight sarcastic tone. "I will indeed be watching from out here and at the first sign of trouble I will pull you out faster than you can say 'guilty'. Miss Blye, Mr Deeks, please return to Ops and prepare for the arrest of Sandy and James Jones. Their testimony will be another crucial nail in the coffin of Agent Nicholls."

Deeks and Kensi shared a look and with their effective dismissal, exited the boatshed as Sam and Callen headed towards the interrogation room. Hetty sat down at the table and exhaled slowly, hoping there would be minimal fallout from allowing Callen to interview Nicholls.

The two NCIS agents entered the room. Sam sat down at the table opposite Nicholls while Callen stood leaning against the doorway. Sam placed a file in front of him but he did not open it.

"You had an awful lot to say earlier, Nicholls," Sam instigated the conversation.

Nicholls remained silent, as did Callen who remained in his position at the door.

"So why the silence now?" Sam asked. "You know we have you, so you might as well make it easier on yourself and confess."

Callen shifted slightly, aware that Sam would soon not be able to shut Nicholls up.

"Just in case you were unsure, I'll enlighten you." Sam continued. "There is blackmail, distribution of a controlled substance, embezzlement and assaulting a Federal agent. And that's just to start with."

Nicholls looked from Sam to Callen, where his gaze lingered in pure hatred.

"Lies. All of it. And I never assaulted a Federal Agent. In fact I do believe that I was the one who was assaulted," he replied calmly.

Callen moved away from the doorway and slowly walked behind Sam. "You ran me over first, and we're not charging you for our little 'fight'. That stunt you pulled with breakfast in the cells...all recorded, plus there's doctor's evidence that confirms how my injuries were sustained."

"You're still lying Agent Callen," Nicholls spat out his words now. "You couldn't lie straight in bed. Do you even have a bed yet?"

Callen smirked slightly as Nicholls began to get personal in an effort to distract them from the case at hand.

"No, I didn't think so." Nicholls continued. "How long have you two been partners? You look pretty tight, just like we used to." Nicholls pointed to Callen and himself. "I reckon about four or so years. You know that we were partners for about two and a half years. For someone so untrusting, he sure can open up at times."

"Nicholls," interrupted Sam. "This is not about Agent Callen, this is about you and your crimes."

"Ah yes," agreed Nicholls with a smile. "But you cannot talk about my crimes without talking about your partner's crimes."

Sam refused to be drawn in by Nicholls. "We already have a signed confession from your girlfriend Jessica Jackson, and our tech experts are taking apart your laptop, piece by piece. Your crimes are blackmail and drugs."

"And so are yours, aren't they G." Nicholls looked knowingly at Callen, who had continued pacing to the far side of the room.

"Nicholls," Sam warned as he started to allow Nicholls to get under his skin.

"Oh, but I thought you wanted me to talk, Agent Hanna. You know how secretive G is about his past, his childhood. Well maybe it's about time you learnt a few home truths about your precious partner." Nicholls leaned forward, elbows on the table as he invited Sam to invade his personal space.

Sam reciprocated and moved closer to Nicholls. "I trust Callen with my life, that's all I need to know Nicholls," he said slowly and seriously.

"Let me see, he lied on his DEA application form _and_ managed to pass a lie detector test," Sam looked up sharply at Callen as Nicholls spoke. "Do you wanna know what for? Do you wanna know how misplaced your trust in Callen is? I have specifics..."

"Nicholls, I'm warning you," Callen had moved to the table and placed his hands on the table, joining Sam in invading Nicholls' personal space, hoping in vain to intimidate him. "We have confessions from your girlfriend, the electronic trail of money and the laptop evidence connecting you with the Jones' and the cartel."

"G kept evidence to himself and attempted to blackmail me into quitting the DEA," Nicholls leaned back and laughed callously as he ignored Callen and remained focused on Sam. "But I got there first, remember?"

Callen shook his head as Nicholls continued. Their prisoner's tactics were working and Callen found he was struggling to keep his anger in check.

Nicholls continued, still with a knowing smile on his face, "but I managed to access his highly confidential records and those files that were sealed by the courts – let me tell you that was an entertaining read, and confirms what a..."

"You bastard," Callen lunged at Nicholls, hauling him off his feet and pinning him against the wall. He grabbed Nicholls' collar tighter, restricting his breathing.

"Callen let him go," Sam ordered as he stood up but did not intervene.

"You...were...caught..." Nicholls struggled to get any words out as Callen twisted his hold tighter still, causing Nicholls to gasp for each breath.

"Let him go, Mr Callen." Hetty voice remained calm as she stood in the doorway.

Callen viciously shoved Nicholls one last time before releasing him and storming out. Sam looked to Hetty who nodded, and he followed his team leader through the door.

"Callen...G," Sam called as he followed him to the far side of the boat shed.

Callen slammed his palm against the wall in anger and turned to face Sam. "Well?" he demanded furiously.

"Your files are classified, Nicholls was full of BS in there and you know it," Sam spoke to Callen roughly, trying to get through to him.

"I can't take that risk. I think he knows stuff Sam, I don't know how but he knows things." Callen started pacing again.

"G, he's playing with your head." Sam grabbed Callen's upper arm, forcing him to stand still and face him. "All your records are classified, highly classified same as your social services file and any juvenile records. You _know_ that," Sam emphasised the point as Callen's eyes met his. "Now why don't you tell me about this DEA thing and we can go back in and use it against him."

Callen resisted the urge to shrug off Sam's well intentioned touch and instead he sighed deeply and forced himself to calm down a little.

"I got in to certain _situations_ as a kid and lied by omission to the DEA. They should've rejected my application and I still don't know why I didn't fail the background checks." Callen now removed Sam's hand and his ice blue eyes softened as he became determined not to give Sam a reason to think any less of him. "I passed the lie detector test and then stupidly trusted Nicholls after a few bottles of Tequila." Callen shook his head slightly and walked back to the table and the large TV screen. "It's the main reason Nicholls thought I would want in on his scam. Later, I persuaded him that I had enough evidence to get him arrested if he didn't return the money and drugs. Another lie but he never knew that - and I let you believe that too. But Nicholls beat me to it and persuaded someone higher up the chain that I was 'not right' for the DEA. They sidelined me to a DEA-CIA mission, and after asked me to leave. The CIA had already approached me so I moved agencies. Nicholls basically he'd forced me out..."

Sam looked at the troubled man in front of him. He was well aware there was one area where the Drug Enforcement Agency would not be compromised, and that was ensuring none of their employees had any involvement or convictions with drugs. It seemed that Callen had confessed his past sins to Nicholls, who had betrayed him, further damaging his ability to trust people, even those closest to him. Sam wondered whether Callen's life would ever be uncomplicated, and blamed Nicholls for the fact that even now, Callen was so damaged he could not trust him, his partner and best friend, with the full truth.

"Ok," Sam said gently, mentally throwing away his own selfish thoughts, "so are you ready to go back in?" He could see Callen was back in control of his emotions, and now he knew the basics they might have a slight advantage over Nicholls.

"Hey Sam, where's the sound?" Callen's attention had turned to the TV screen. Hetty was sitting opposite Nicholls, clearly laying down the law but there was no sound.

Sam picked up the remote and pressed a few buttons. Still nothing happened. He pressed the speed dial for Eric in Ops and asked him why there was no sound feed from the interrogation room. Eric advised him that as Callen had gone for Nicholls, Hetty had requested he cut the sound feed until she advised it could be restored. As Sam and Callen wondered what Hetty was doing, Nicholls head dropped in to his hands in a gesture of defeat, and Hetty exited the room.

"Well Mr Callen, thank you for that display of self control in there." Hetty stood in front of Callen and glared at him through her thick rimmed glasses.

"Hetty, he was about to..." Callen did not even want to finish the sentence and broke away from her stare.

"It would have been more lies, Mr Callen," Hetty re-assured him firmly. "Eric and Nell have confirmed that at no point was Agent Nicholls able to access any shred of information about you. Your file is classified and you should trust that it will remain so."

"But he could have..."

"But Mr Callen, he didn't." Hetty did not allow Callen to finish his sentence. "And I will now return to that room and obtain the fully signed confession that nasty little man he has just promised me, including cartel names. Please advise Eric he can restore sound now."

Sam and Callen just stared after Hetty as she made her way back to the interrogation room.

"How did she do _that_?" Sam asked in wonder that their diminutive boss could elicit a confession in minutes, when they have failed on such a grand level.

"I don't know," Callen replied slowly as a multitude of thoughts whirred through his mind, not least to adopt the tactic which Hetty had clearly employed to get Nicholls to confess so easily. Blackmail, was his educated guess, blackmail and the threat of violence, somewhere down the line.

Callen smiled as the sound came back and Nicholls started his confession.

* * *

Bits of this chapter have been re-written numerous times and I'm still not sure how happy I am with it. Callen's past remains undisclosed, undefined...as it so far does in the TV show...


	18. Epilogue

Epilogue

_Back at HQ_

"Mr Callen, a word if you please," Hetty called out to Callen as the agent walked towards the bullpen.

Changing direction after a split seconds hesitation, Callen wandered up to Hetty's office and tapped his fingers lightly on her desk. He knew what this chat was about; it was time for another revealing conversation, time for him to listen to reason rather than assuming. He waited patiently for Hetty to start talking.

"Sit down, please. You've had an intense week and I would rather you did not fall down."

Callen did as he was told and eased his aching body in to the chair opposite Hetty's. He remained silent as he leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs before him. Hetty was right as usual. He felt world weary and the injuries and beatings he'd taken during this case were taking longer to recover from than usual.

"Mr Callen, I recall having a conversation with you recently where I advised you to take better care of yourself. As usual I see you have not heeded my advice."

"I didn't go looking for a beating," Callen defended himself, referred to both the incidents in the DEA cells and the brig.

"Maybe not all of them, but with Nicholls..." Hetty looked at her lead agent with concern. "Why do you always feel the need to deliberately place yourself in harm's way?"

Callen for once had no glib reply, no explanation for his behaviour with Nicholls. He was well aware he'd been reckless and pretty much pissed Sam off for no reason other than he felt like it at the time. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Hetty could see the soul searching that was taking place in Callen's mind. For once his thoughts were quite transparent. "Tell me about Nicholls," she said.

"There's not much to tell Hetty. For a while we were best friends. I trusted him and he betrayed me." Bitterness entered Callen's voice at the end and he wondered why he had ever allowed himself to trust Nicholls in the first place. "You know the rest."

"I know that your omission from your DEA application form was overlooked by higher powers during your initial background checks. Your juvenile records no longer exist, and your social services files remain sealed at the very highest level, in line with your highly classified status."

Hetty never ceased to amaze Callen with her uncanny ability to know everything, although he was slightly concerned as to how much she knew about the contents of his childhood files. He was unsure how to continue with Hetty as he felt that he'd burnt his bridges with her the previous week. He'd essentially accused her of abandoning him to a turbulent childhood instead of a loving one. He still did not understand the reasons for this but instead decided to take comfort in knowing that Hetty had looked out for him, and was most likely involved in ensuring his DEA position was secured. And even now she had made sure that his integrity within the team was maintained.

"Hetty, I'm sorry for the way I've acted over the past week," Callen took the plunge with an apology.

"Mr Callen, there is no need for an apology. If anything it is me who must apologise to you."

Callen held his breath as he wondered if Hetty was about to reveal even more about his past. There was so much unknown; who his father was, how he and Amy arrived in America, his name...hell he didn't even know if his date of birth was correct.

"I feel my story about the raven and the swans caused you more turmoil than I anticipated," Hetty continued. "You must understand that it was only ever in my power to help you from afar. Believe me, Mr Callen, if I could have offered you that permanent home I would have."

Callen studied his hands before looking directly into Hetty's eyes. "But why couldn't you?" He asked plaintively, lacking the energy or the desire to fight with Hetty any further.

"Your mother was an undercover CIA operative murdered in an authoritarian Eastern Bloc country and I was her handler," she said gently. "It was assumed her two children, you and your sister were also killed. When you were found here in America, I was not allowed to make contact. All I could do was try to find a family for you. I may have failed you in that respect, however you have turned out to be a strong, independent and principled young man, Mr Callen. I was not able to guide you or mould you, but you found your own way in life, and as you continued your journey through the agencies I followed your progress. And here we are today."

Hetty finished her speech and leaned back in her chair, smiling with the pride she felt for the man in front of her and inwardly wondering how more rounded an agent and person he would be if he learnt to trust and had been a true team player.

Callen blinked heavily and ran his hands over his face and through his cropped hair. He could not and did not live in the past, yet every nugget of information about his family background he clung to desperately in an attempt to find answers. Hetty's explanation made sense, however he was still left wanting more, more than Hetty could give. So where did the answers lie? With the CIA? With Romanian secret police of the Ceausescu regime? Or was there something more in his social services or classified files? He would find out, someday.

"Thank you Hetty," Callen said graciously. "They weren't all bad y'know, the foster homes."

"Oh, I know Mr Callen," Hetty responded with a smile. "And I know full well you demanded to be removed from more than a few through your own sheer belligerence, and due to no fault of the families concerned."

Callen failed to look suitably chastised and instead returned Hetty's smile and said, "At least I'm no longer a challenging child, Hetty."

The sentence drew out the desired response from his Operations Manager and friend.

"No you're not, Mr Callen," Hetty replied. "You're just a challenging adult now."

The End

* * *

Thank you for taking the time to read this story and I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I have (well, except that damn last chapter). All reviews have been greatly appreciated.

The small technical errors pointed out have all been corrected and relevant chapters edited.

If you enjoyed this, please also read my short Callen-based story "Man's Best Friend".


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